Waking Dreams
by JLo10131121
Summary: What if you knew something was missing from your life, but didn’t know what it was? EC all the way baby.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Waking Dreams

Author: JLo10131121

Spoilers: Through the current season

Summary: What if you knew something was missing from your life, but didn't know what it was? EC all the way baby.

Disclaimer: Do I look as if I own this series?

Feedback: is food for my hungry soul and fodder for my ego. EG

Author's Note: In my CSI: Miami-World, Alex did not quit.

*****

_Soft, silken skin. Jasmine-smelling hair. Heat from her body warming his. A kiss across an unshaven jaw. Laughter and a hint of Southern twang. Green, green eyes. Piercing eyes. Loving eyes. _

Eric awoke drenched in sweat, trembling slightly from the inside out, heart stuttering in his chest in remembrance of the dream he'd just had. He tried to remember, but the more he tried, the more elusive the dream became, like trying to catch smoke. You knew it was there, you could see it, but you couldn't hold it in your grasp. Instead, Eric was left with vague impressions. It had been a sexual dream; that much he remembered wryly as his body throbbed below. But it hadn't been entirely about sex, he thought, getting the impression of warmth and love. The girl in the dream was a blank. It was getting frustrating. He'd had a similar dream two nights before, with the same results: unable to recall much detail and it was driving him crazy. Eric glanced at the clock on the nightstand. 5:43AM. He groaned. Work didn't start until 8AM and if this time was like the first, he wouldn't be getting back to sleep tonight, or rather, this morning. Instead, Eric swung out of the bed, adjusting the slowly abating erection which had tented his boxers as a result of a dream he couldn't remember, and walked into the bathroom. After flipping the switch, he undressed and took a shower. Might as well start getting ready for work.

***

_Come on, it's got to be here somewhere, _Calleigh thought as she rotated the test-fire bullet alongside the bullet recovered from her latest vic. A few more moments of twisting had Calleigh crowing in triumph. "Yes!"

"What's got you so excited?" Calleigh looked up from the microscope just as Eric walked into Firearms and smiled warmly at him.

"Good morning. And to answer your question, I spent several hours yesterday just reconstructing the bullet under my 'scope here and am very pleased to find a match. The guy murdered his terminally ill wife and said it was 'assisted suicide.'"

"And you don't believe him," Eric finished, nodding his head slightly.

"Not when they'd been on the verge of divorce for the better part of two years since she was diagnosed with End Stage lymphatic cancer. It's the first step in building a solid case," Calleigh completed. "So, what brings you to my neck of the woods?"

"Eh, nothing much. Haven't seen you for a few days and wanted to get my Calleigh fix," Eric teased, half serious. She smiled at him.

"Speaking of which, how were your two days of leave?" she asked as she pulled both bullets from the scope and placed them back in their containers.

"Fine. Went to Ma's and visited with Isabella and the girls, caught up on sleep—" Eric replied. "Always a good thing," Calleigh interrupted with a smile. "Yes, well, it was long overdue," Eric added. Before he could say anything else, his beeper began to sound. "Looks like a double," he said as he checked the message.

Calleigh's pager went off a few seconds later. "Looks like we've got trouble. Want to drive together?"

"Yeah, let me get my gear and we'll head out." Eric and Calleigh drove over to the Grove in a companionable silence. 15893 Spring Forest Road was not usually known for nosy neighbors, but one couldn't help but come out of their house when there was a Lexus in their neighbor's window.

"Alex?" Calleigh called, passing the Lexus imbedded in the large bay window, and walked slowly into the house, mindful of the glass which littered the floor. It always paid to be safe rather than sorry. The job came with some unexpected surprises a lot of the time and Calleigh had learned early on to expect nothing and prepare for anything.

"In here," her muffled reply came, probably from the living room, from the sound of it.

Eric hung back a few steps to appreciate the four-door vehicle hanging in what was the window. He whistled low and shook his head. A few more seconds of gawking, and Eric joined his co-worker. Calleigh walked toward Alex in the living room. She was examining Charise Williams, scrapes and bruises covering her face, arms and legs, and one large laceration which covered much of the side of her head. The vic was dressed in what appeared to be gym clothes, and it also appeared she'd put up a struggle by the look of them.

"Poor baby, somebody really hated you," Alex said, shaking her head, and then checked her liver temp.

"So, what do we have?" Calleigh asked, squatting down to Alex's level.

"Charise Williams, 23. TOD is within the last few hours. That's all I know. The guys outside will have more. Now as for how she died—that's fairly simple to determine, assuming my findings back at the office coincide with my preliminary evaluation. It looks like her head was struck with some sort of object made of wood, maybe a 2X4, paddle, or bat. See here," Alex said, motioning to the wood splitters imbedded in the vic's head.

"Eric…" Calleigh started. They needed to find out more about this situation.

"I'll check with the first on scene and find out more about the situation," he completed, knowing exactly what she would want him to do. It was kind of creepy the way he could sometimes complete her sentences and vice versa. Laughing to himself, Eric walked back outside.

"Thanks," Calleigh called as Eric's form cleared the front door. He waved behind him in acknowledgment.

Eric consulted with the uniforms who'd first responded. Officer McAddams stated they'd received a call around 8:43AM about a robbery and responded to the scene. When they'd entered, they found the victim as she was in the living room. She was a housewife, albeit a very rich one, and had kept to herself mostly, according to the neighbors. Eric snapped off a couple of pictures of the crowds. Sometimes killers came back to see the result of their handiwork, but he didn't have high hopes for that one. It seemed like a B&E gone wrong. 8:30AM—Most people were already on their way to work by that time. Actually, if you weren't on the road by 7AM in Miami, you were looking at an hour and a half to two hour drive anywhere, just due to the congestion, and that was minus any accidents on I-95, the Turnpike, or any of the other major thoroughfares.

Eric walked over to the crowd and approached a young woman about the victim's age.

"Miss, do you know the victim?"

"Emily, Emily Saunders. Yes, Ari was a friend and neighbor. We were supposed to go to Yoga and then Pilates this morning," she said as she swiped at a tear.

That explained the workout gear, Eric mused. "So, what time did you hear the commotion?" he asked, motioning to the car behind him. Emily glanced back at the car and returned her attention to the officer in front of her.

"A few minutes before I called the police. I didn't hear the alarm go off and Ari usually has it on until just before she leaves the house."

"And where's her husband?" Eric asked as he took a couple of notes.

"Richard's away on business. He's in real estate and in the process of selling a condo or some such thing to someone in Seattle, I think. He's been gone since last week."

"Any problems between the two of them that you know of?"

"No. I've known Ari for over four years now. That's how long she and Richard have lived in the neighborhood. We stuck together, you know," Emily softened her tone, obviously not wanting to be overheard. Eric inclined his ear. "Because of the old ladies on the block, such busybodies. They really don't know how to mind their own business," Emily nodded, casting a couple of the so-called 'old ladies,'—who in Eric's estimation were not old (They barely looked older than he and Calleigh.)—thinly veiled glances of distaste.

"Anything worth mentioning that was gossiped about?" Eric questioned. "Anything that could possibly have gotten Mrs. Williams killed?"

"No, nothing like that. Just the typical catty, housewife stuff. Nothing to do and all that," she asserted.

"All right. Well, thank you for your assistance. If you think of anything that could have bearing on the case, please call," Eric said as he handed her a business card.

"Can I call even if I don't?" Emily asked coyly. Eric had to smother a smile and instead of replying, walked away back into the crime scene. After checking the living room, which was empty—Alex must have left with Mrs. Williams—Eric moved on to the rest of the house, checking the rooms briefly for signs of his partner.

"Cal?" he called out.

"In here," came her muffled voice. Eric found her in the Williams' bedroom, or more specifically, the shoe closet.

"Wow, this place is bigger than my apartment," he mused and started to unpack his gear again. Insane. Who needed this many shoes?

"Be still my heart," Calleigh sighed dramatically. "An entire room dedicated to shoes."

"Are you serious? I can't imagine having this many shoes," Eric replied, silently counting. Over two hundred pairs. At least. He lost count around 198 or so.

"Every woman dreams of a closet full of shoes. I don't have a closet full, but a good estimate of around 50. You sho—" Calleigh interrupted herself and abruptly went silent.

When she didn't continue, Eric prodded, "You were saying?"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing. It was nothing." It was obviously something, but Eric wasn't going to push the issue.

"Didn't get nothing much from outside. The call came in around 8:30AM for a B&E. What brings you in here? I doubt you processed that living room that quickly," he remarked skeptically. And why the bedroom closet? Usually they processed the house room by room, not skipping around. It was more methodical and you didn't miss anything that way.

"According to Alex, TOD was a couple of hours ago. Found a couple of wood splinters in the vic's head and followed a small trail into here," she said as she slowly waved her flashlight with one hand and a pair of tweezers in the other. "Well look what we have here," she noted in an almost sing-song voice. She found a couple of more splinters that met at the closet wall. "This room looks much bigger from the outside, doesn't it?" she asked rhetorically, knocking lightly on the wall and listening for a hollow sound. She didn't really expect an answer and none was given. Calleigh was unusually chipper today, Eric thought, but pushed aside the observation and instead paid attention to what his partner was discovering behind what turned out to be a false wall: a bloodied baseball bat.

"Nice find," Eric commented.

"Ouch!" Calleigh exclaimed as she picked up the bat.

"You okay?" He asked in concern.

"I think a couple of these slivers of wood impeded themselves in my finger," Calleigh muttered as she took off the glove.

"Here, let me," he said, already reaching for a fresh set of tweezers from his kit. Eric drew in close to examine the offenders and remove them. Calleigh could feel her hand tremble very slightly from the close contact of a man she'd always found attractive. It wasn't professional, she reminded herself. And she was with Jake. As he carefully extracted the delicate slivers, a strong sense of déjà vu came over Eric and for a few seconds, he was lost in another place.

"_Eric, that hurts," Calleigh whined. _

"_Baby," he murmured as he removed the tiny splinter from her palm. "There. It's done. Want me to kiss it better?" he asked suggestively, already halfway to her palm. _

"_Not here! We're working," she admonished, pulling away halfheartedly. _

"Hello? Earth to Eric? You okay there?" Calleigh asked, concerned by her friend's lack of response.

Eric shook himself out of it and replied, "Yeah, fine. Déjà vu. It was nothing." Calleigh turned her back to him and began to process the bat for DNA, blood, or other trace. At the same time, Eric berated himself. _That's no way to be thinking about your best friend. She's with Jake and has been so for over four months now. Get over it! _He ordered himself. _But what a daydream that was, _a naughty voice inside intoned. He'd had a similar daydream the first time when he'd removed that piece of glass from her finger at the burned out house.

_Get yourself together_, Calleigh ordered herself. _Eric can't—Forget it. Don't go down that road. _Now, get back to work and finish processing the scene. "You said the call came in around 8:30AM. Alex said TOD was a couple of hours ago. Which doesn't jive with a home invasion gone bad. Someone else did this to her. And the only reason she was found this fast was because someone tried to break in." Eric nodded absently in agreement, still somewhat lost in his own thoughts.

Calleigh and Eric worked in sync processing the remainder of the scene. One of the last items to process was the beat up Lexus still in the window. "When did the tow company say they were going to get here?" Calleigh asked.

"Supposedly they're stuck somewhere in Lauderhill. It's going to be a while," Eric replied.

"Wonder why the thieves didn't just back it out and drive away?" Calleigh murmured, mostly to herself.

Eric had an answer anyway. "They couldn't. Lexus and several of the other high end manufacturers have started putting 'kill switches' into the new model vehicles so that in the event of a front end collision like this the owners couldn't drive away. Leave the scene. The irony is that if they'd just stolen a POS or even an older model, they could have gotten away." He smirked.

"At least they had good taste," Calleigh quipped.

After the tow truck finally arrived to bring the Lexus back to the lab for further processing, Eric and Calleigh drove back to Miami-Dade with the evidence they'd collected, including the bat. Two days later had the bat, trace recovered from the scene, and the Lexus all processed and analyzed.

Natalia found fingerprints from inside the vehicle on the steering wheel which led to two youths with long rap sheets for B&E charges and pickpocketing but no convictions. Eric called Tripp to round them up and put them into different interview rooms. Calleigh was waiting in Room One for Mr. Rodriguez. "So," she began. "I hear you like to steal other people's property."

"Na, na, you got the wrong dude," Emilio Rodriguez said. "I ain't never been convicted of no theft."

"That's right, but according to the Florida court system, you've been charged several times with breaking and entering, pickpocketing, larceny… Shall I go on? But the reason we're hear is this: Seems like you've graduated to home invasions. And murder," she hammered.

Emilio's face was one of shock and then he started babbling, "Lady, I didn't kill no lady!"

Calleigh was sharp. "I didn't say it was a woman." She noticed he hadn't mentioned the break-in. "And then there's the theft of the Lexus," she said, placing down on the table photos from the crime scene. "Your fingerprints are all over it."

Emilio was quiet for a few minutes and leaned back in his chair. "Look, I'll cop to the Lexus. Man that was a sweet ride, and I'll admit I broke into the house, but I didn't do it alone."

"Yes, we know about your friend Deshawn Johnston. Which one of you killed her?" Calleigh already knew neither of them did it, but she wanted him to sweat.

"Neither of us! Look, we had scoped the house a couple of weeks before, and knew the owner had some sweet electronics inside. You know, Bose sound system, Blue ray player, the Sony flat screen 60 inch LCD 1080p TV, the works. We were goin' to break in and take it. Tha's all. But then dumbass mistakes gas for brakes and next thing I know we're in the house. Got out, saw chickie on the ground and took off. Didn't even take nothing," he finished.

"Thank you," she said, motioning for the uniformed officer to take him into custody for B&E and grand theft auto. Deshawn Johnston was also arrested for the same charges, but they were no closer to finding Charise Williams' killer.

*****

That night, Calleigh returned to her home having closed one case, but no closer to closing another. Jake was waiting for her in the living room, watching what appeared to be Monday night football. "Hey, babe. How was the office?" Jake asked smartly as he leaned up to get an upside down kiss from his girlfriend.

Calleigh had to suppress a smile at his antics. He always did know how to make her laugh, but it wasn't good to encourage him all the time. "Mostly fine. Eric and I got called out on what appeared to be a home invasion gone wrong, but turned out to be a B&E incidental to the murder of a wealthy housewife." Calleigh detailed the case without mentioning names to Jake as she settled down on the sofa, TV dinner in hand. Even though Jake was now one of them, he hadn't worked the case and therefore couldn't know the names of the persons involved. Protocol was protocol and as much as possible, Calleigh stuck to it. As she was explaining the case, she reached for her glass of water on the tray in front of her and almost dropped it as an unexpected soreness made itself known in her pointer finger. Calleigh hissed and pulled back quickly.

"What's up? Hurt yourself today?" Jake asked, leaning over to get a closer look.

"Yeah, it was a splinter. Nothing really. Eric extracted the sliver earlier, just didn't realize it would still be hurting. Got a piece of glass in the same finger last year and I don't remember it hurting this much." Calleigh may not remember that, but she had no problem recalling the way Eric had tenderly removed the large piece from the flesh. The look in his eyes….almost like he—

"Let me look at it a minute," Jake asked, already reaching for the light. Upon further inspection, the skin around the puncture was inflamed and red still, much more so than this morning, Calleigh noted. "Think you might be developing an infection." He moved off the sofa and walked into the nearby guest bathroom, which had a medicine cabinet. A few moments later he returned with a tube of Neosporin and dabbed a bit onto the reddened area. "There, all better," Jake said softly. Calleigh glanced up and found herself drowning in soft hazel eyes. She felt like melting into a puddle, but that wouldn't do. She never did something so feminine. Besides, the man had plenty to boast about. She didn't want to add to the list. There was another person who had made her want to drown in his eyes, but she hadn't allowed herself to think of him for several months now. Things had changed. She had changed. And she couldn't go back now, no matter how much she wanted to. No matter how much she wanted to tell him. Impulsively, Calleigh leaned over and softly kissed Jake on the lips.

"Is it okay if we go to bed early? I'm pretty beat," she asked.

"Sure, no problem," Jake replied. The couple walked into her room and began to prepare for bed. As they settled in and turned out the lights, Calleigh's thoughts followed from the living room.

Another complication was her relationship with Jake. Since she'd initiated this relationship with him again for the first time since the Academy, Calleigh found it harder to keep her heart safe from him. He'd changed a lot and yet, not at all over the last nine years. He was more mature, but still had that puppy charm and wit that could make her laugh. Initially, she'd allowed him to seduce her so she could attempt to forget about _him,_ a means to an end, as selfishly as that was, but it was the truth. However, slowly, so slowly she'd barely noticed, he'd begun a slow takeover of her heart. At this point, it wasn't entirely his, but it could be. A sudden red flush flashed into her cheeks and Calleigh was grateful for the low lighting. She felt guilty just thinking that thought. _He _had been such a major part of her life for the last several years and then she'd cut it off, abruptly, without word or explanation, and now she was with someone else. Someone not him and it was hard. She still loved him. But she was falling for Jake and she didn't know how she felt about that. Was it possible to love two men? Was it fair? To either of them or to herself?


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: For my story's continuity's sake, let's pretend the scene with the glass in Calleigh's hand occurred before Eric's shooting. I know, I know. I'm usually good with this kind of stuff, but I couldn't leave out the scene. It makes the story make more sense. If that makes sense... lol. Enjoy. Please R&R.

Chapter 2

_Roses. Jasmine. The sweet and light smell of something, someone familiar. Glide of silken skin against bronze strength. The prick, prick, prick of a beard scratching lightly against a smooth and soft breast as he laved the hard tip, igniting the nerve endings there and creating a symphony of sounds from the plump mouth above. Nibble of teeth against much more delicate areas below had her groaning into the pillow, fists clenched in the softly worn sheets. _

Eric awoke, gasping for air, and shot up in bed. Trembling from head to toe. Unsatisfied hunger for a woman he couldn't remember beating through his being, ripping his insides apart. Third dream in almost two weeks. He'd never dreamed like this before. Eric wasn't one prone to wet dreams, or even erotic dreams, as he usually satisfied his cravings before they manifested themselves in his unconscious world. However, since his shooting, he hadn't really felt the need to have indiscriminate sex like he'd done before. How utterly irresponsible he had been. The shooting had changed his perspective like no other event in his life, not even Marisol's death. Her loss had initiated a small change, but the shooting had been a catalyst for Eric to revaluate his life and he found it lacking. Something was missing, he was beginning to realize.

He glanced at the clock on his bedside table. 4:23AM. Once again, he would be going to work sleep-deprived. Eric's thoughts followed him into the bathroom and he stripped to take a shower. The rushing water trickling over his sensitized skin caused a shiver to run down his body. The woman from the dream was so familiar. He knew her. He knew she was someone from his life. Maybe. Calleigh maybe? Probably. He'd been infatuated with her for the better part of the last eight years, give or take a few months. Even before he'd gotten transferred into CSI, he remembered seeing her during the couple of times he'd had to recover a body from the 'Glades or some pond or another. Gorgeous with those piercing green eyes, and that blond hair was distinctive in an area mostly composed of Latina women with darker tresses. Sweet and always polite, professional, she'd treated him like he was an equal. Unlike some people in the department who believed Underwater Recovery was beneath them because they weren't sworn law enforcement, she'd always treated him with respect. That had been the start of his fall. And he'd been tumbling deeper into the well that was Calleigh.

Eric finished washing the soap and conditioner from his hair, what little remained, skimming over the scar that was an ever present reminder of the shortness of life, and moved on to his body. He was quick and efficient in his movements, not wanting to encourage the erection he still sported from the dream earlier. Since the shooting, he'd had problems encouraging the man below to relax. Masturbating hadn't helped as much as it had in the past. He'd tried once to hook up with a girl two months ago, but that hadn't worked out so well. Maybe it was time to try again. Maybe it was too early. He'd only been back on his feet for three months, having spent two weeks in the hospital and another two on bed rest at home, a total of four months since the shooting.

Then again, if these dreams were any indication, he needed to get laid. The thought made his stomach turn. Meaningless sex no longer had the same appeal it had prior to the shooting. He'd almost died. He wanted more. He wanted a family, a house, a lover at the least. Maybe he could go out and attempt to find someone to share his life with. But as he got dressed to go running, Eric's heart began a small, almost imperceptible, ache and his subconscious attempted to tell him he already had someone to share his life with.

****

Bayfront Park was a fixture in Miami. Having been built in the early 1900s, it was redesigned in the early 1980s by Isamu Noguchi and is bordered by Biscayne Bay. Thirty-nine acres of trails, paved and unpaved, benches, fields, picnic tables, and playgrounds. Eric loved running in the park. He'd been coming for over ten years now, and had gotten to know some of the local runners and bikers in the area. Listening to the seagulls and the crashing of the waves calmed Eric's thoughts immensely. It was his way of working out his problems when he couldn't talk to Calleigh. There wasn't much he couldn't talk to her about, but he hadn't found the courage to really talk to her about his feelings for her. And while she was with Jake, he wouldn't. Couldn't. Talk about awkward.

He'd hinted, almost jokingly a couple of times, he was interested in Calleigh. But as she told him once, _you know I trust you with my life. I don't even know how I feel about Jake yet. _In other words, I'm not interested. Eric's mouth twisted slightly in a grimace as he continued to run. It was obvious how she felt about Jake now. He'd caught her talking on the phone and by her laughter, he knew she was talking to Jake. She never laughed like that when the two of them went out for drinks or dinner, before Jake. They hadn't gone to dinner or had drinks after shift in over six months now. Maybe. At least four months. Ever since the shooting, Eric noticed he had memory gaps. Several times he'd visited with his parents, his mom had made mention of something or another and he hadn't remembered. It was very unsettling.

It worried him. If he couldn't remember a family event or an outing with a friend, what else could he be forgetting? And not know it.

*****

_Sunlight streamed through warmed windows. A shaft of light illuminated one side of her face, slowly coaxing Calleigh out of the dream world and into the real. A soft moan filtered through her senses and she smiled in welcome as she turned to face the sexy countenance of the man she cared for deeply. "Hey stranger," she said as sweet brown eyes sleepily opened and focused slightly on her. "Missed you," she added. _

"_What? Didn't get enough of me last night and in your dreams?" His smart aleck reply bounded off Calleigh. _

"_Don't remember what I dreamed about," she replied airily. _

"_Liar," he challenged and suddenly sprung to life, covering her body with his. Calleigh squealed as her lover began to tickle her. It wasn't fair. He wasn't ticklish at all, but every spot on her body seemed to be prone to the sensation. _

_After a few moments of frivolity, he let her go and Calleigh was about to calm down some, although she found her heart still raced. "I did miss you a lot. Hopefully you won't have to go to any more training sessions anytime soon." _

"_At least none that are over a week long and out of state," he agreed as he leaned down and kissed her lightly. Though they'd loved all night after he'd returned, he found he couldn't get enough of the woman in his arms. She was an addiction he didn't want rehab for. She was the best candy in the world and no substitutes would do. "I love you, Calleigh Duquesne." _

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. Calleigh was rudely awakened by the alarm clock blaring from across the bedroom. As much as she appeared to be a morning person, always in a good mood, ready for anything with a smile on her face, in reality, nothing could be further from the truth. It usually took at least two and sometimes as much as four cups of coffee prior to getting to HQ before Calleigh felt even remotely human. And God help the person who got in the way between Calleigh Duquesne and her coffee.

Still half asleep, Calleigh walked groggily over to the alarm which had wrenched her out of what had been a great dream (what little she remembered) and haphazardly pressed the 'off' button. She dragged herself slowly over to the closet and pulled on the terrycloth robe she left hanging for mornings like these. A glance at the bed revealed Jake passed out, flat on his belly, head twisted to one side, sprawled out, one arm and leg halfway off the bed. A slight smile curved her lips at the pose, which Jake commonly adopted, but trotted off out the room and down the stairs to start her coffee.

Several years ago, Calleigh used to drink imported coffee from Ireland, and that was her manna. But ever since she met Eric, all she could drink was Café Bustelo or Pilon. She was addicted to Cuban coffee and when she couldn't find it, which wasn't often, Puerto Rican coffee would work. Furthermore, Eric had taught her a very specific way to make Café Cubano and as a result, she was very picky. Calleigh took her coffee very seriously. No one touched her espresso machine. No one. And Jake had learned that lesson on day one after they became a couple again. As she prepped the espresso machine, Calleigh smiled in remembrance of that day. Two weeks into their budding relationship, Jake had gone into the kitchen after their first night together and begun to make coffee. Calleigh had awoken to the smell of the brew, but something was off with the smell. After putting on a robe, she had gone down to the kitchen to find Jake puttering around in _her _kitchen, touching _her coffee. Making her coffee in her brand new (a year old was still brand new) espresso machine. _Calleigh giggled lightly, shaking her head at how she had reacted to the sight of Jake messing with her coffee. She'd blown up at him. Not having had any coffee, Calleigh had gone off on her boyfriend.

"_Jake, what are you doing?" she asked, attempting to be calm. _

"_Making coffee for us before work," he replied, banging around the espresso cups. Calleigh watched in morbid fascination as he manhandled her baby. It was like watching a train wreck. You knew you should turn away, but you couldn't. _

_When he dumped the glass shot cups in the sink without washing them, Calleigh snapped. "Get out of the kitchen. Now. You're going to break my machine! You're making a mess and, and, and—" Calleigh had stopped stuttering when she took speech classes as a child, but now the ailment returned briefly in her distress. "You're going to break it! No one touches this machine but me, Jake. It was a gift from a, it was a gift, a very expensive gift, but that's besides the point. The p-p-point is no one touches the machine but me," she reiterated and stomped her foot for good measure. _

Calleigh's shoulders shook slightly in laughter. God, Jake hadn't known what to do after that. The smart thing would have been not to touch it in the first place, but barring that incident, he did scurry out pretty quick. She had made the coffee ever since and never once did Jake mess with the machine again. Smart boy. Calleigh finished putting the finishing touches on the two lattes and sipped a few precious ounces of one. A heavy sigh released from her lips as morning tension drifted away and Calleigh started to feel human again. This morning ritual was one that got her started before she went into the office. God forbid she went in or to the field before she had her coffee.

A creak on the stairs had Calleigh's head turning slightly to watch Jake come down, still in boxers, but putting on a gray t-shirt as he descended. "Morning, beautiful," he said softly, and as he reached Calleigh, kissed her lightly on the lips. He snagged the latte not claimed and took a few sips. The couple walked into the breakfast nook and sat down to read the paper together. Calleigh divided the paper as they always did: Jake got the sports section first and Calleigh the state and local news. There was a blurb about a training seminar going on that weekend in Miami for law enforcement and the snippet jogged a memory about the dream she'd been having just before the alarm rudely woke her up.

From what she remembered, she'd dreamed about _him_ again. About the night he came home after that training in Las Vegas. She thought she'd put their relationship behind her. She thought she'd moved on. She hadn't had dreams about him in over five months. It was over. That much was clear. Calleigh winced as she remembered that night. She'd moved on, she reminded herself. She was with Jake. She'd made a decision that had changed their relationship irrevocably. And there was no looking back. Not now, not ever.

*****

Eric banged away at the laptop on his desk, typing away and completing several reports that had been delinquent the last few days. All because of a couple of dreams he could barely remember. His thoughts were scattered. His heart fragmented. The dreams had grown in frequency since the first one a month ago. Mostly sexual in nature, but with a loving undertone, the dreams tantalized and teased Eric with visions of a woman he could only get snippets of and could only hang on to those for the first few precious seconds after waking. He didn't know who she was. He didn't know why he was dreaming about her. And it was starting to interfere with his job. Even Calleigh had commented on it today.

"_You okay, Eric?" she asked in concern as she opened her locker door, busying herself by putting her jacket inside. She tried to look unconcerned, but failed. _

"_Yeah, fine. Why?" he replied, closing the locker door. _

"_You just look really tired."_

"_Sleep's a little hard to get sometimes," he said, not looking at her. _

"_For the last three weeks?" Calleigh commented quietly. _

Even so, as much as the dreams frustrated and teased, they were oddly comforting and even stranger, Eric had begun to feel an increasing hollowness in his chest, like something was missing. A dull ache that wouldn't go away, a constant reminder of something he couldn't quite remember.

Calleigh's observation earlier today had convinced Eric to call his therapist for an unscheduled appointment which Dr. Andrews made for 4:30PM today, an hour from now. Eric needed to figure this out, now, before it made him compromise his work ethic. Fifteen more minutes of typing, trying to stay focused on the task at hand, progressed and Eric looked up at the clock. 3:45. Not nearly close enough to justify going to Dr. Andrews' office. But enough time to get some café Cubano from the nearby Cuban cafeteria. Eric took a break and walked down and out Miami-Dade HQ, deciding to walk to the café instead of drive. It was only three blocks away and he had plenty of time to kill.

La Terisita was an institution in the sea of Cuban coffee and restaurant shops that had sprung up after the revolt and the massive influx of Cubans into the US. Nestled in between two large office buildings on the bay, it was prime real estate. Several major companies has tried to purchase the space over the years, but the city council and neighborhood committees had halted all of them. It was a place where everyone was welcome, whether you were Cuban or not, Hispanic or not, and it showed. Popular, the shop was still packed when Eric walked in. Traditionally, the 3-5pm hours were not heavily trafficked, but they were here. Eric hadn't been here since before his shooting. The last time he remembered coming was with Calleigh after a case.

"Hola, como estas?" Eric asked Mr. Antonio Suarez, the owner, who was behind the counter, taking orders. He was always behind the counter. Eric liked that he was involved in his business. Too many people left their livelihoods to their employees who inevitably ran them into the ground.

"Bien, Gracias. Eric, how have you been? Mi familia and I were worried when we heard about your shooting a few months ago. Went to church. Prayed to Santa Maria for a quick recovery. Here you are now. Bien and on your feet," Mr. Suarez said, switching between Spanish and English fluidly.

Eric ducked his head. It had been a while since he had to explain what had happened after and he wasn't used to it anymore. "Everything's good. Been back now for about three months. Quick recovery, but I'm still on meds," he said truthfully. Antonio and he went back a long time. He'd been in the neighborhood his whole life and he'd been coming to the shop since he joined Miami-Dade ten years ago. Antonio was more a friend than a server and he treated him as such. "Look, I'm sorry for not coming by before now. Things have been really busy," Eric apologized.

"De nada. You've had bigger problems lately. Hey, by the way, are you still seeing that pretty blonde you used to bring by? The pretty green-eyed chica?"

Eric's face twisted into a frown. "Calleigh? She's—We're not dating. We never were. She's just a friend," he denied.

Antonio gave him a look, but didn't say anything aloud, although he did mutter something under his breath. Sounded suspiciously like, "Yeah, right. And I'm Jesus."

Eric shook his head and moved down the line to order café con leche. Once he had his coffee, Eric headed toward the back of the café to a small booth in the corner and sat down. Running his middle finger around the ring of the cup, Eric thought about his conversation with Antonio. He was pretty convinced Calleigh and Eric were seeing each other. Eric wished. Antonio was a hopeless romantic and always wanted the people around him to be in love, with someone. Look at his three daughters. He had introduced their husbands to them and in a matter of two years, all three were married with children on the way. That was it. Just wishful thinking on Antonio's part. But Eric didn't notice he was unconsciously tracing writing, a familiar handwriting in the battered wood table.


	3. Chapter 3

By the time Eric got back from the coffee shop, it was about time for his session with Dr. Andrews. When he arrived at the office, Carla, the doctor's assistant and secretary said, "Go right in, Eric. Dr. Andrews is expecting you any moment now.

Eric walked in slowly. Even after bi-weekly sessions over the last three months, he was still leery of talking to the shrink. He'd never been one to air his problems to people with whom were not his friends and/or family. Regardless of the fact Doc was bound by confidentiality laws to protect his information and the secrets and thoughts he revealed in these sessions, he still felt a bit of wariness before going in. However, his reticence was always allayed within a few minutes once he began talking. Dr. Andrews was good at his job, at getting to the root of the problem and coaxing his patients to open up.

"Good afternoon, Eric. How are you today?" Dr. Andrews began, motioning for Eric to take his normal seat in the oversized lounge chair. He'd always made an effort for his patients to be comfortable in their surroundings, despite the department's lack of funding in the psychology department and it was evidenced by the serene prints of famous artists such as Dali, Van Gogh, and Matisse. The oversized chairs helped his clients settle in, feel a bit at home, and gain a sense of trust even before they started sessions.

Eric took his seat. "Doing fine…Kind of," he started.

Dr. Andrews sat down in his customary chair across from Eric and the coffee table. "What is bothering you? This is the first time you've ever called to initiate a session."

He knew he could be blunt with Eric. At first, he'd had to coax him, but over the last three months, he was able to get his client open up to him and it was significantly easier to converse with Eric. Furthermore, he appreciated getting to the point. Dr. Andrews had learned quickly Eric did not like to play games, at least, not since the shooting.

"I didn't tell you about this before, but I'm going to now. I need some help figuring this out. I've been having these dreams over the last month. Four in one month, at least, those I remember I've had," he said, fidgeting slightly.

"Are these dreams disturbing to you?" he asked, making a notation on his pad.

Eric shook his head and a blush flushed his cheeks. Something he wasn't prone to doing. There wasn't much that could make him blush, but discussing his sexual dreams with another person not his current girlfriend was one of them. "Not exactly….Actually, they're…very sexual in nature. I'm…making love to someone, a woman, but I can't see her face. I can't see who she is and it's frustrating, to say the least," he said, trying to push it all out before he lost his nerve.

Dr. Andrews asked, "Does she seem familiar to you? Maybe someone you've been involved with in the past?"

Eric shook his head. "No, not at all. I mean, she is familiar, she feels familiar, if that makes sense, but no one that I've been involved with in the past. These dreams, they're not just sexual. I get a sense of love, warmth, home. Being home is the biggest feeling. And I've never felt that way about any girl I've ever been involved with or hooked up with."

Dr. Andrews noted Eric's language in describing the dreams and there were two main themes he wanted to analyze further. "To start with, you just stated you've never felt that way about any woman you've 'been involved with or hooked up with.' What does that mean?"

Eric sighed. They'd never discussed his sexual history before and with good reason. Before the shooting, he'd been quite the hound dog, with the exception of the six months before. He hadn't dated or hooked up with anyone at that time. After the shooting, he looked back on that period in his life and was ashamed. Women weren't meant to be used and discarded like razor blades. "Before the shooting, I took advantage of my looks at every chance I got. Sometimes I dated. Some of them I cared for deeply, but never really loved them. Othertimes I went to clubs looking for no-strings-attached sex. Frequently. There was one girl I was seeing a couple of years ago, she died in a fire and I didn't even know her name. Not until she was identified after."

"And now?"

"Life's too short. Learned that lesson the hard way. I've been thinking about settling down. Not sure if now's the right time. If I really want to or if it's this event that's pushed me into something I'm not ready for."

"And in these dreams, you said, being with this mystery woman, it felt like 'being home.' That she seems familiar. If it's not anyone you've dated or had sexual relations with in the past, could it be someone you currently know? Is there anyone you relate to now?"

And now we get to the root, Eric thought sardonically. "There's this woman…Everything I say here is confidential, right? I mean, you can't go tell Horatio or IAB?"

Dr. Andrews was taken aback, but recovered quickly and reassured Eric. "Of course not. The only way confidentiality can be breached is if the client is in imminent danger of harming himself or someone else."

Eric took a deep breath and looked at Dr. Andrews one more time before stating quietly, "There's this woman in the department, Calleigh Duquesne. She's Horatio's second and a co-worker. She's superior to me and she's got several years seniority. She's been incredible since the shooting. She stayed with me in the hospital and when I got out, she helped me get settled back in my condo. At work, she's helped me get through some pretty though situations. I mixed up a couple of bottles of solution up, a rookie mistake, and Calleigh scraped me out of that. Then there've been the little things. The encouraging smiles, little winks. Even before the shooting we were friends, close. I'd call her my best friend."

"Is flirting a common practice between you?" Dr. Andrews noted on the pad Eric and Calleigh were very close friends. Lines blurred?

Eric sat up straighter. "We're best friends. I've always had a crush on her, even in the beginning, but it's never gone anywhere. She's one for keeping the office and home life separate. Never the twixt shall meet and all that."

Dr. Andrews picked up on the subtext and what Eric wasn't telling him. He also noted the nervous way Eric had begun to run his thumb back and forth across the arm of the sofa. "Sounds to me like there's more than infatuation on your part." He waited patiently. Sometimes, it was better for his clients to not only understand what they couldn't voice, but to acknowledge something they'd never even put words to.

Eric's heart started to beat quicker and his breath grew short. The walls started to feel like they were closing in on him. Suddenly, Eric got up out of his seat and tried to appear cool and collected as he walked around the spacious office, but to Dr. Andrews' eyes, he was neither cool nor collected. Instead, his movements appeared jerky and his body language tense. _That hit a nerve._

Was he right? Was Dr. Andrews correct in his comment? Was Eric more than infatuated with his co-worker? Granted, Calleigh was beautiful, gorgeous with that sunny blonde hair and emerald green eyes—Emerald green eyes. He'd dreamed of emerald green eyes. She _was _the woman in his dreams. But why now? Why not before? That thought brought Eric's mind back to Dr. Andrews' comment. _Sounds to me like there's more than infatuation on your part. _If Dr. Andrews' was right—and Eric wasn't thinking he was (yet)—then he cared for someone who was taken. Calleigh was involved with Jake. And they were happy. He'd seen the evidence of that happiness every day in the office when he'd walked in on her several times over the last few weeks. The girlish giggles. The light and happy laughs. The way she always seemed to be smiling.

"Maybe….I don't know for sure," Eric waffled. "This has just come out of the blue. I didn't feel like this before. She's a friend, my best friend. That's all. We've never gone down that road before together. At one point early on, I thought maybe, eventually, something could happen, but then we got closer and it became apparent she wasn't one for mixing business and pleasure. That couldn't be more apparent than now."

"How so?"

"About a month or so after I got out and was back on the job, there was a case and Jake, Calleigh's boyfriend, got hurt. I made a comment about her visiting him in the hospital. She went on the defensive and reminded me that she'd visited me in the hospital and I said that was different. I tested the waters a bit and expressed an interest in her and Calleigh put me down pretty quick, saying that we worked together in the lab day in and day out and working with Jake wasn't the same. She told me she trusted me, but that she needed to find out how she felt about Jake. She made her choice." Eric wasn't happy about it, but there wasn't anything he could do, no matter how much he wished otherwise.

"And how does that make you feel?" Dr. Andrews bit his tongue and cursed mentally. He couldn't have picked a worse question to ask. All clients hated the proverbial question and usually didn't respond, but he was in luck.

After a look at the doc, Eric responded truthfully. "Lonely. Empty. Like something's missing from my life. That's another feeling I get from the dreams. As out of place as that sounds. I guess it makes sense. I want the one person I can't have," he said quietly, looking out the window, not really seeing the Miami skyline, but looking inside himself.

Dr. Andrews closed his portfolio with the pad inside. Today's session was over. What more was there to say to a person who had just realized such a gut-wrenching fact.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Sorry it took so long! I've been writing this for a couple of weeks, but I just realized it was well over 8000 words long, and I couldn't do that to one chapter, so I'm going to break it down into two, maybe three, depending on how detailed and in depth I get. Enjoy and please, no throwing of objects!

***

Eric left Dr. Andrews' office not feeling better than he had when he first entered, something unusual since his first few sessions with the psychologist. The sudden clarity of the gut-wrenching realization that Calleigh could never be his, would never be his, felt like a punch to the gut. He'd never really allowed himself to think of her that way, well, not much. Before the shooting, she'd just been Calleigh, his friend and co-worker, sometime pool-playing buddy, catching a flick or two, but never anything serious. Never anything that made him think that they could get serious. She was his friend and she'd drawn a line early on in their relationship, such that he'd never felt the need to push it. Since the shooting, Eric had found himself watching her, mesmerized by her laugh, her piercingly, achingly warm gaze, the sweet smile, goofy sense of humor…everything that made her Calleigh. And now, he felt an ever-increasing need to not just cross that invisible line, but fucking demolish it. His fists clenched involuntarily at the thought, of just taking what he wanted. Or at least, trying to, he thought wryly. More likely, he'd have sore balls for his trouble.

But even as he wanted, needed, wished, Eric knew what he desired, craved, would not-could not be. Calleigh was with Jake and that was one line Eric couldn't make himself cross. His mother had taught him right. He remembered the lecture when he was 16 and fancied himself in love with Marguerite, the girlfriend of one of his then-best friends. _Eric, m'ijo, you will not violate that trust. Samuel is your best friend and no matter that you think you're in love with Maggie, you will not act on it. Betraying that trust will destroy you. And not just you and Samuel. Maggie too. A sense of trust has been built between you and you cannot violate that even for a minute. It is not your place to interfere. Let it be Maggie's decision on whether she wishes to break it off with Samuel and begin anew with you. A relationship is built on trust and if you were to intercede while she and Sam were still together, it would not bode well for any relationship you developed with her in the future._

Eric had taken that advice to heart and had never started something with a girl or woman who he knew was in a relationship, no matter how 'open' she purported it to be. All he could do now was step back, let Calleigh make her choice, even though she wasn't aware of his affections, and try to get on with his life. Though he felt not in the mood, Eric decided to go out that night, after shift. Get out there, try to have some fun. Maybe he couldn't forget about Calleigh, but he could try to dull the pain a bit. The rest of his 12 hour shift was spent completing paperwork, the backlog of it he had in his inbox. Eric knew he couldn't concentrate enough to actually process evidence and it would kill him if something he processed was used to get a criminal out, instead of in, prison.

When Eric went into the locker room to hang up his lab coat and get his bag, his eyes couldn't help but wander over to Calleigh's locker, already closed. A quick glance at the board told him she was off already, having taken a couple of hours leave. His stomach clenched a little in some emotion Eric didn't want to give a name to. He had no right to feel like this. She wasn't his to worry about. Or to care about. _But she could be._ That little voice, a whisper of his feelings, was silenced abruptly, consciously. That was one road he couldn't go down or Eric might find himself ignoring his mother's advice, a grievous offense in his family. Shaking himself mentally, Eric moved on with the business of packing up and walked out Miami-Dade. As he made his way through the employee parking lot, Eric caught sight of Calleigh getting out of Jake's car, wearing a pretty blue summer dress with stringy straps, hair upswept in curls about her head. "Hey, Cal. Forget something?" he teased, walking over. His feet carried him, even though his mind protested. As if he needed any more torture. Calleigh in work clothes was amazing, but Calleigh in play clothes, dressed to go out for a night on the town….Pure devastation.

A rueful smile graced her sunshine face and she nodded, "I swear, if my head weren't attached…just left my creds inside my locker."

Eric shook his head in silent laughter and looked down, but that was about as dangerous as looking at her face. Calleigh's dress reached a couple of inches above her knees and the woman had legs that went on for days. Ears burning, Eric's gaze flitted back up, barely allowing himself a glance at the dress' modest but still sexy bust line. Even so, it was like a punch in the gut. The desire to each out, touch, hold, kiss, was so strong, Eric had to take a step back, get some breathing space before he did something he wouldn't regret. Her diamond earrings winked at him from under the delicate curls that framed her face and Eric had an intense and immediate desire to lean over and nibble that soft flesh. The image was so vivid in his mind, he could see himself doing it, leaning in, a soft stroke against the lobe to tease both of them, a slow and soft suckle, gentle nip, maybe not so gentle with the way he was feeling, move down that succulent skin, down the graceful curve of her neck and just take small bites out of her. Eric had to bite off a moan and took a few more steps back, but they were baby steps. He didn't want to get too far away. His body had responded to his desire and had sent blood rushing south, tightening the front of his slacks in mere moments. Vertigo overtook him for a second and he thought, as corny as it sounded, he was going to faint from the desire to have her.

Calleigh saw the look in his eyes and instantly, shamefully, her body responded to his desire. Her nipples pressed against the soft silky fabric, which had felt buttery soft, but now felt like the roughest wool against her sensitized skin. His focus appeared to be on her neck and that patch of flesh responded too, so much so she could almost feel his lips there, the stroke of his tongue, the bite and scrap of teeth. A shiver overtook her and she almost reached out, almost. But then a horn honked behind her and made Calleigh jump. The moment was broken and both appeared slightly dazed, if attempting to hide it. "Well, I better get going. Have a good night, Eric," Calleigh said brightly, if a little distracted by the erection gracing his pants. Eric couldn't say anything, but he watched as Calleigh turned back to Jake's car, and then abruptly around, and headed toward the elevator that would take her inside the building. His gaze focused on the daggers Jake was shooting his way. Ignoring Jake, Eric had to force his feet to move and complete his journey to his car.

As he drove home, Eric's mind lingered on the enticing sight of his co-worker in that silky blue dress that had outlined each curve perfectly and set his senses aflame in a matter of moments. He'd never seen her look more beautiful, breathtaking, seductive…the adjectives went on. Take your pick. As those few minutes rewound themselves in his head, he saw her reaction to him as if for the first time. He'd been so preoccupied by trying to not show how he felt on the outside, he hadn't even noticed how she'd responded to his gaze. Eric remembered the pulse beating rapidly against the thin sensitive skin of the slender column that was her neck, the light flush that swept across her chest, slowly traveling north up her throat and into her face where it culminated in a sight that still took his breath away, even now, when Calligh was no longer in sight. Her eyes had appeared luminous, a hint of something—desire maybe?—in their depths. Her nipples had beaded against the silky dress, evidence that she was not unaffected by him, by his regard. Desire was already evidenced by the time his gaze had drifted back to her eyes. It had to be something more. But what?

Calleigh recovered her credentials as briskly as she could and exited the building as quickly as her still frazzled nerves would allow. Walking back through the parking garage to Jake's car proved slower-going than going into the department. She was dragging her feet and she knew why. She needed some time to analyze the expression on Eric's face, the flash of desire, unexpectedly identified and her uncomfortably sensitive reaction to that longing. Her body hadn't responded so quickly, instantly, since before. As bad as it sounded in her head, not even Jake's most ardent attentions had produced such an instantaneous response. Usually, it took a few minutes for the spark that ran between them to ignite. This—it hadn't happened once since he got out of the hospital and now suddenly there was this sexual tension zipping around them, complicating a relationship that had been so simple before. _Not so simple now, is it? And if you were truthful with yourself, you'd admit it hadn't been simple for a long time. _

When Eric got home, he walked through his condo into his bedroom, stripping off work clothes as he went. It was Friday night and he could use a drink or two. Maybe meet somebody. His stomach clenched in protest but Eric ignored it. He was a single man, hadn't had sex in months, he could use a little bit of fun. His stomach and now his heart tightened, rejecting the thought of touching another woman. Where did that come from? He hadn't been dating anyone before the shooting and he'd only tried once after to test the waters. That had ended in disaster.

A frown creased his forehead for a brief moment as he contemplated that thought. He deserved a night out. He'd been cooped up for too long and his body needed a stretch. Even if the night only brought liquor and dancing, Eric found himself agreeing it was a good idea, justified it to his heart, which definitely did not want to troll the clubs for a body when he had someone waiting for him at home. Christ, he had to stop thinking like that. Calleigh wasn't his to have. She never was. And that kind of thinking could lead to problems at work as well as personally. That was the last thing he wanted. Regardless of what kind of relationship he wished he had with her, Eric did not want to lose her friendship or have it strained and awkward between them. He winced. Even now it was going to be awkward come tomorrow morning, assuming they did what they'd done so many times before – sweep it under the rug and pretend the lump wasn't there. They'd done that with Hagan's suicide, Speed's death, etc. So many instances where one or the other had needed to talk, get their emotions out in the open and begin to heal but hadn't.

The desire Eric had felt in those moments, the electricity that had arced unseen between them, had not abated and he suspected it wouldn't for some time. Even if Calleigh were to pretend tomorrow nothing had changed, Eric knew she would be unable to deny what had lingered in the space between them tonight for long. That knowledge would manifest itself unwittingly, by word or look, or deed. And eventually, it would have to be addressed.

In the meantime, Eric needed to get out of the condo and get to downtown. If he hadn't needed a drink before, he definitely did now. Seeing Calleigh like that tonight was a sucker punch to the gut, knocking the breath out of him and he needed to regain some semblance of control over his nerves as well as enjoy the night as he originally planned.

With a night of supposed frivolity in mind, Eric chose a light blue collared shirt, something he could have worn at work, a pair of charcoal gray slacks that were soft to the touch and a light sports jacket he hadn't worn since before the shooting. And if he picked them out with Calleigh in mind, Eric justified it by telling himself it was highly unlikely he'd run into her tonight.

***

The ride over to the restaurant and bar was quiet. Calleigh was lost in her own thoughts and trying to appear as if she hadn't been affected by the way Eric had looked at her. As if he hadn't wanted to eat her alive. She had to suppress an involuntary shiver at the image and Jake noticed. Until then he had been conspicuously silent, since the parking garage, and Calleigh just knew he had seen something. She was also suspicious that he was the source of the honk that had quelled the moment between the two of them. Having noticed the slight tremble, Jake glanced at her. "So, what did Delko want?"

He was studiously ignoring, either by genuine lack of knowledge or choosing to consciously ignore, those moments between Calleigh and Eric. The fat elephant in the room was beginning to trumpet and Jake appeared quite content to pretend it wasn't there. If he was going to let it go, then she would too. "Nothing, just wanted to wish me a good night," she lied. There hadn't been much verbal communication. Instead, body language and their eyes had done the talking. They'd practically mentally undressed each other! She didn't want to get into a fight and apparently neither did he, as Jake didn't push it.

Finally, they arrived at the restaurant, Shooters Bar and Grill, and a small fist clenched in Calleigh's stomach. She hadn't been here since _before_. He'd taken her there for a night of dinner and dancing, as the bar was known to host some incredible local talent. That had been their first date, which had culminated in a night of intense passion and pleasure for the both of them. Calleigh had told herself before agreeing to the date to take things slowly. She'd not been out in a while and hadn't had a steady boyfriend in years. But something about him that night…it wasn't planned, not by a long shot, but looking back on it now, she couldn't have stopped him. Because _she _hadn't wanted to stop.

Calleigh counseled herself internally and admonished to pay attention tonight and not let old ghosts, no matter how hot and delicious, ruin a perfectly good night. With that in mind, Calleigh threw herself into the scene. She and Jake were seated in a corner booth of the old industrial building, the exposed brick beside and behind her back and the low lighting hanging from the thirty-foot ceiling above. The booth was curved and comfortable, providing a sense of privacy in such a popular and crowded venue. The waiter, Michael, brought the menus and took their orders for drinks. Predictably Jake ordered two Jack and Cokes and as usual Calleigh asked for ice water and a French martini. She loved the fruity drink, but sometimes it was hard to find a bartender who knew how to make it just right. That wasn't the case here as Calleigh looked up briefly to see their waiter giving the bartender the order. The woman at the bar glanced up and squinted into the low lighting at their table in the corner. She nodded her head in acknowledgment. Michele had been bartending for over ten years, most of it at that restaurant, had an incredible memory, and of course she would remember Calleigh. Or maybe she remembered who Calleigh had been with that night.

Either way, when their waiter returned with the drinks, Calleigh took a sip of the martini and sighed in pleasure. Perfect. "What can I get for you tonight?" Michael asked.

"I'll have the lemon chicken with garlic mashed potatoes and asparagus," Calleigh ordered. Jake asked for the Delmonico steak, medium, with roasted potatoes and the vegetable medley. The time between appetizers and dinner passed with light conversation, nothing important really, a few comments about certain cases. Even so, Calleigh's shoulders started to tighten up, the muscles bunching in places. They were talking about everything but what really mattered. She could see the questions and suspicions in his eyes, but they were never voiced. Calleigh couldn't take it anymore. They had to get whatever was on his mind out in the open. Even if they were in a restaurant. "Just ask what's on your mind, Jake," she said abruptly.

"Do you really want to have this conversation here?" he asked, motioning around.

"If it means you'll quit shooting daggers at me with your eyes, then yes," she replied.

"Fine. What's going on between you and Delko? Are you seeing him?" Jake asked.

"No. We're friends, just friends. We're not seeing each other behind your back," she fidgeted slightly.

"Then what was with earlier? He was all over you. And you didn't look like you were fighting much to get away," Jake commented.

Calleigh protested. "We weren't all over each other. We were talking."

"He was undressing you with his eyes, Calleigh. I'd say that's something a friend wouldn't do," Jake contested. "You weren't much better. I didn't see you moving away. You were in a trance. I had to finally honk the horn to get you to move." It wasn't anything they'd said or even done. Something had been in their eyes, something he didn't want to see and hoped Calleigh would negate.

Calleigh knew Jake honked that horn. It had been a mixed blessing. Because if he hadn't… "Don't worry about me, Jake. Eric is a friend, but that's all," she said, grasping his hand in reassurance. She had to ignore the painful squeeze her heart did as she said those words.

After dinner, amazingly, Jake still wanted to go dancing. He picked a nearby club called Skyy and they entered the crowded, smoke-filled building. Skyy was a nightclub that catered to the late 20s/early 30s crowd, unlike so many on the strip which were usually frequented by kids in their mid-20s and younger. Four levels split the building by type of music: hip hop/rap, Hispanic/Cuban, Rock/Alternative, and the fourth level was reserved for music by decade. Each weekend the club chose between the 70s, 80s, and 90s. Calleigh was in the mood for hip-twisting Cuban music so she and Jake made their way up to the second level. Each level was insulated and soundproofed to the outside noise so pulse-pounding music from either above or below didn't filter in and disturb the rhythms.

As screwed up and tension-filled as their relationship was right now, dancing didn't require conversation and Calleigh and Jake were both incredible dancers. Five songs in had Jake begging off to get some drinks but Calleigh wasn't done. There was a lot of energy to burn and rather than start a fight, she wanted to dance it off. Jake left her on the floor, but Calleigh wasn't without a dance partner. Several Hispanic men sambaed and salsaed with her and she lost herself in the music. Her dance partners didn't matter. The rhythm did. A slower rhythm began to drum through the room and Calleigh opened her eyes to find a most intriguing sight: Eric leading a beautiful tall blond.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Please, no throwing of objects. Enjoy. And this is unbetaed, so any mistakes are mine. I just couldn't stop typing tonight. Although it's going to be a while before the next chapter. I've got a wake and a funeral to go to this week.

Chapter 5

The strip was home to many nightclubs and bars. Some upscale, trendy, and exclusive. Seedy was a kind word for how others could be described. But the vast majority catered to the middle to upper-middle class. Cover charges weren't astronomical, but every once in a while it could hit the pocket. Skyy was one of Eric's favorite clubs and had been for years, ever since it opened fifteen years ago. It had had some name and owner changes, but the tone and feel of the place remained the same and that was what kept the crowds coming back and Eric in particular. Deciding that was where he wanted to dance tonight, Eric got in line and had to wait fifteen minutes to gain entrance. Once he paid the cover charge of $20.00, Eric entered Skyy. The music was pounding and the rhythm could be felt through his chest. As he moved about the room, he reflexively checked out the exits. Being a cop was sometimes a pain, but knowing where the exits were could mean the difference between life and death.

Pushing those morbid thoughts aside, he thought about where he wanted to hang out. The four levels of the club and the different music that could be found on each afforded him a lot of choices. Did he want to dance to hip-hop, Latin, or one of the other two? Eric made the decision and headed upstairs to the second level. He wanted to lose himself in the music and that didn't usually happen unless he was dancing to the sounds of home. As Eric opened the door to the second level, Latin music pulsed through the walls, invigorating him with the quick rhythms and instrumentals. Unconsciously, Eric began to move to the beat as he walked around the large level and hit the bar first for a drink. The bar itself was slightly separated from the main room, but large enough for people to congregate and actually talk, with a few tall tables dispersed for seating. The music was still loud here, but it was slightly muffled. A few minutes later, the bartender had his mojito in front of him and Eric was taking a sip of the sharp, bitter, but good drink.

As he sipped his drink, Eric decided to hit the dance floor and was immediately accosted by a stunning willowy blond who sat down in the stool next to him as soon as its previous occupant vacated it. "Hi, can I buy you a drink?" she asked boldly, looking him in the eyes, body turned toward his. Blue-green hazel eyes met his hotly.

Eric smiled a little. "Isn't that my line?"

"It's everybody's line, sugar," a Southern lilt softly apparent. Eric was reminded instantly of Calleigh's voice, but he pushed those thoughts away. Calleigh wasn't here and this wasn't the club she usually would have frequented anyway.

"No, thanks. I'm good for right now," he said, referring to her earlier question.

"Then how about a dance? You look like you know your way around a dance floor," she practically purred, lightly stroking a hand up the outside of his thigh from his knee.

Eric's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He hadn't been so boldly picked up since before the shooting. Wonder if he remembered how to play the game? "That's not all I know my way around," he shot back. Yep. Still did.

Eric and the woman, whose name he did not catch, talked for a few minutes as he finished his drink and then she led him out to the main dance floor which was crowded with dancers. It was tough to move around, but dancing was sometimes more of a bump and grind than all the twirling and steps. He lost himself in the music and closed his eyes. And if he felt another under his hands, smelled jasmine instead of vanilla, tasted a hint of oranges, of citrus, then Eric put it off as his imagination. But it wasn't his imagination when he opened his eyes again and met the gaze of his partner across a crowded dance floor.

A jolt of something zipped through him and he slowed his dancing, distracted by the vision in front of his eyes. He hadn't expected to find her here. In fact, he'd come here to get away from his thoughts, about her and about the dreams. Lose himself in the music and just enjoy the night. Even so, Eric couldn't take his eyes off her, fifty feet away. The blond in his arms finally noticed his inattention and attempted to regain it. But Eric couldn't take his eyes off Calleigh and apparently neither could she. Instinctively, Eric started to take a few steps in her direction, but the blond pulled him back, and suddenly her grip tightened and the scent of her perfume was cloying. Eric shook her off, dismissing her, and walked toward his partner, who'd also stopped dancing with the Latino who had her in his arms. Eric couldn't hear what they said, but his fists clenched involuntarily as the man's head bent down to listen as Calleigh spoke into his ear. A nod and a parting caress on the shoulder and he was gone. Eric approached and stopped a few feet in front of her.

"Do you want to dance?" he asked. She nodded wordlessly. Eric pulled her into his arms and they began to move to the rhythm of the music.

When she opened her eyes and met Eric's across the floor, it was like before. He'd looked at her like that before. Calleigh noticed the blond in his arms with not a little trace of jealousy. She was beautiful, statuesque, willowy. Right up Eric's alley. She found herself irrationally despising a woman she'd never even met. Since the shooting, Eric hadn't dated, or at least, she'd never seen him with a woman or talked about one at work, and so she'd thought he'd taken some time off the circuit. But now, seeing that woman in his arms, a rush of anger and jealousy, irrational as it was, flooded her and it took everything in her not to bodily remove that female from his arms. Eric had no problem doing so when she got clingy. A rush of relief when he pushed her away almost had Calleigh swaying on her feet, but she regained her footing when Eric started to walk toward her. Never taking her eyes off his, Calleigh reached up and said to her dance partner, "Thanks for the dance, but I've got other plans. Maybe some other time." With a smile and a caress on the shoulder and he was gone, just in time for Eric's approach.

"Do you want to dance?" he asked. There was something more to that question than the simple connotation it implied. A heaviness to the query that had Calleigh's lower body tingling. It was as if he was asking for much more than a simple dance. Words stuck in her mouth, lips sealed shut and all Calleigh could do was nod her assent. He took her hand in his and she had to suppress a shudder at the stroke of his palm against hers. What was going on? This hadn't happened since before. But she couldn't help herself. Eric pulled her into a sensual rhythm, and the two of them began to dance in concert. The beat was slow, sexual, throbbing, and soon Calleigh found herself lost in the music, but more so, lost in the arms of the man who held her. It was just the two of them. The world faded away beyond the music and Eric, and Calleigh didn't care. It had been _so long_… At first, they danced heatedly, a give and take. He advanced. She retreated. But as the music changed tempo, so did the tone of their dance. Hips brushed, clashed, and met. Hands stroked. Her hair ghosted teasingly across his neck when he circled her and Calleigh's blue dress did nothing to mitigate the silken slide of his hands across her waist, around her back, and down to the soft swell of her bottom. As fleeting as that touch was, she had to suppress a moan.

His bold caress allowed her to circle her arms around his neck and not for the first time, Calleigh wished Eric hadn't kept his head shaved. She loved to run her fingers through the soft, thick hair. He shivered at the gentle scrape of her nails across the nape of his neck. The dance grew more heated and Eric pulled her closer, trapping her in his arms, bodies sliding chest to chest so he had to feel the press of her nipples rubbing against his upper body. She could feel his erection pressing against her and Calleigh gasped as heat raced through her body. Eric dipped her suddenly and she could feel the hard press of his upper leg against the hot juncture of her thighs. Calleigh hadn't realized just how aroused she was until that moment. It was almost enough pressure against her clit to make her climax. Almost. Eric's eyes flared in recognition and nothing could have prevented him from taking the kiss that followed.

At first, he just brushed his mouth against hers, testing the waters. Eric didn't want to go any further than Calleigh wanted. He couldn't believe this was happening in the first place. Only in his dreams. Only there had he tasted the velvety feel of her lips, sipped from her mouth. The kiss changed a few moments after it began. A nibble on her lower lip and then Eric's mouth pressed hard against her soft lips, a desperate mute plea for entrance inside. A gasp from the electric tingle from that nip parted her lips slightly. She couldn't resist. She hadn't felt this in forever.

It was heaven, coming home, every amazing thing he'd ever imagined and more. Calleigh's mouth was sweet, her taste everything he'd imagined and nothing he'd expected. The last 30 Christmas mornings and birthdays rolled into one intense moment. Nothing could compare to this kiss, he thought dazedly. He had to quickly reassess that dim thought as the moment got impossibly better. Hot, greedy hands pushed his dress shirt out of the way to reach the skin of his abdomen and rake those nails across the hard plane of his stomach. Eric had to suck in a quick breath at the intense sensation those little hands produced against his skin. It was as though Calleigh knew just where to touch to illicit the most intense sensations.

Calleigh moaned in protest as Eric reached up tentatively and covered a breast over her shirt. It wasn't enough. It could never been enough. She walked backward, mindless of the other dancers on the crowded dance floor, blindly moving toward a wall, away from the other people, to a space they could be secluded somewhat. Finally, her back hit a wall and she pulled him into her. One hand spanned her waist, the other still curled on the underside of her breast. But it wasn't enough. Her shirt was in the way. But they were in a club. No need to get arrested for indecent exposure. Improvisation was her forte though and Calleigh proved it by hitching up onto a little niche into the wall and pulling him closer into her body created by the vee of her legs. Eric's erection impacted solidly with her core and Calleigh cried out into his mouth, clutching at his backside to bring him closer, rocking her hips against his. He couldn't believe how far this had gotten in such a short time, and a little voice in the back of his mind said, _slow down, _but he couldn't make himself let go. Eric couldn't help but respond, breathing labored, but still willing to take this where it would go. Just hopefully, not so far they got arrested.

He broke away briefly from her addictive mouth to say, "Cal, wai—" He wanted to take things a little slower, not rush into something that could backfire on him. He cared about her deeply, but didn't know how she felt about him and this attraction just complicated an already convoluted relationship.

"No, I missed—" _You, _she thought, biting off the word at the last moment. Tears sprang unexpectedly to her eyes as she looked up at Eric, confusion and lust, desire and hope all in his eyes. But she couldn't say that. There was a lot she couldn't say, and—Calleigh's attention caught sight of a certain cop, drinks in hand, scanning the dance floor for his date. "I-Eric, I've got to go," she said in a rush, pushing at his body and when he moved slightly, she hopped down from her perch, biting off a cry as gravity torturously forced her to rub her center against the part of Eric that hadn't lost his interest.

Eric was still dazed when Calleigh brushed past him. He tried to stop her, but his hands were clumsy, weak with the want of her, and maybe it was best, a voice inside said. Give her some time. The shadows and dim lights helped her vanish. _Don't push it, Eric, _the voice inside cautioned. _Let it go for now. You have time to figure things out and talk with Calleigh later, when she's had time to think about what happened. _Tonight, something profound had happened. It wasn't every day you found such a large slice of heaven. And from the tortured and hurt look in her eyes, there was something more going on than what she was saying. Once Calleigh left, Eric couldn't get back into the dancing. He just wasn't into it. The main reason he'd come was to get away from Calleigh and the dreams, but she'd found him and they'd….well, he didn't exactly know what it meant, but it had to mean something other than status quo. Regardless of whether or not she was involved. You didn't just kiss and fondle someone when you were involved with someone else if you were happy, not if you were Calleigh. If they hadn't been in a crowded dance club, who knew where this could have taken them?

Eric's mind leapt onto a fleeting thought. Calleigh had peeled out of his arms like something was after her. Or, more likely, _someone. _Jake. Had to be. He'd seen them earlier at the PD. His mother's voice berated him inside his head and Eric had to consciously force himself to not to flinch at his mind's dead-on impression of his Madre. A bit of shame came over him at the way he'd behaved a few minutes earlier with Calleigh. What if Jake had walked over, seen them? As much as he hated the guy, Jake did not deserve that. No one did. And Eric had never had any respect for anyone who betrayed a lover's trust like that. Yet here he was, having committed the very act his mother had warned him against.

If he and Calleigh were ever to have a relationship, he wanted it to be based on trust. And you couldn't trust the person you were with when that relationship was developed out of an affair. Eric had a cousin who even now, at 30—a man by society's standards—still acted like a horny 17 year old kid. He'd gotten involved with one girl, cheated on her with another, and then hooked up with that girl for a couple of years, only to cheat on her for most of the time they were together. Being friends with both, Eric had been caught in the middle, and when Tiffany had come to him crying about Eddie's infidelity, it had taken everything in him not to say, "I told you so." How could you expect fidelity from a person when infidelity was the beginning of your relationship? That was the last thing he wanted with Calleigh. He wanted a relationship with her based on trust and commitment and love and not dishonesty and suspicion. If he was serious about this thing about Calleigh, Eric mused, he'd have to take things slow, let her figure it out on her own and when she'd broken up with Jake, only then could Eric possibly even contemplate making his move. The thought felt cold and calculating, but that was the truth.

Eric walked back to the bar to get another drink. He needed one after the last several minutes with Calleigh. Holding her in his arms had been heaven and hell all wrapped up into one lithe little package and right now his sense of up from down was altered. Obliterated was more like it. Heaven because it had felt perfect being in her arms, holding her in his. Hell because reality had come crashing down when she left. She was committed to Jake, no matter how much he might hate it and no matter than she had kissed him like there was no tomorrow. Calleigh was not one for cheating on a partner. She had a very strict code of ethics and that wasn't her.

Even so… the way she had responded to him, as if it was only the two of them in the room. A shiver traveled down his spine from the base of his neck. She'd made him forget about everything, but her. Eric asked for scotch on the rocks, needing something significantly stronger than a mojito after the night he'd had. He nursed the scotch, sipping gently, needing to calm his body down. He was still revved from those moments with Calleigh, his body primed for her touch. A body took the vacant seat beside him at the bar and Eric's eyes focused slightly, enough to give the person some room. It was a woman, honey-colored tresses cascading down her shoulders and she was saying something to him. It took a few seconds for Eric's mind to process the words. "My name's Arianna. Would you like to get out of here and get a room?" Eric's gaze focused and sharpened on the woman in front of him, the woman from the dance floor he had dismissed earlier.

He looked at her in confusion, not really sure if he'd heard her right. "I said," Arianna stated, "Would you like to hook up?" and she suggestively ran her right hand what should have been teasingly up Eric's inner thigh. He entertained that thought for a split second, but only long enough for her hand to tread dangerously to the erection he still sported because of Calleigh. Calleigh. A rush of shame shut the thought of going home with the woman in front of him. Jesus, what was wrong with him? Just the thought of Calleigh had him recoiling in distaste from the woman in front of him. Her bold advance, after Calleigh's electric touch, left a bad taste in his mouth. He couldn't fathom going home with another woman after he'd just shared such an incredible moment with Calleigh. Even though it had only been physical in nature, there had been something more lurking in her eyes and he was in love with her. He couldn't disrespect that emotion by going from Calleigh to this woman, or any other, for that matter.

Eric gently removed her hand before it encountered other, much more sensitive areas and firmly told her, "No. Thank you." This was a first for him. Eric couldn't remember when, or if, he'd ever turned down a beautiful woman. That thought brought a grimace to his face. He used to be a real horn dog. Before. Always before.

"Sure I can't do something to convince you otherwise?" the woman purred, attempting to reconnect with his leg.

Eric began to get annoyed and a little sick from her touch. He'd tried sweet and polite. "No," he said abruptly. "I'm not interested."

Arianna's demeanor changed instantly at his tone. "You were interested just fine when we were dancing. Before that woman caught your attention," she snipped.

"Exactly," he ended the conversation just before he hopped off the stool and walked away, leaving a very irate woman sitting alone at the bar. She'd get over it. Women like her were used to getting what they wanted and she was the type that she wouldn't be alone for long.

Eric's skin crawled at the phantom feel of her hands on his body. It had felt wrong. Even in the split second of considering her proposition, he had known he couldn't possibly have gone through it. Something inside him screamed out in protest. Whether it was his heart, head, or body, Eric didn't know, but he trusted himself and hooking up with a random stranger the night he'd shared something so profound with the woman of his dreams would cheapen the experience. Dishonor Calleigh. She meant much more to him than a quick lay and if he couldn't keep it in his pants, then he didn't deserve her.

Eric left the club after he exited the bar area, deciding not to stick around with Calleigh and probably Jake in the same building. There was too much temptation there for him to resist finding and confronting her. Whatever this was between them could be addressed later. He didn't want to make a scene and God knew, something would happen if he found her with Jake right then. He didn't think his stomach could take the sight of them dancing, Jake kissing her, touching what he'd just spent long minutes caressing. Even now, his stomach turned at the thought.

When he got home, he was too wired up to go to sleep so he laid out on the sofa for a bit, watched TV. A few minutes in had Eric closing his eyes, more tired than he'd anticipated. What seemed like hours later, Eric was jolted awake by the blaring of an infomercial for Orange Glow and he turned off the set with the remote that had fallen down on the floor when he fell asleep. The sofa was no place for sleeping, as Eric's back could attest and so he went into the bedroom to change and get ready for bed. Eric stripped and entered his walk-in closet. Most guys did not have walk-in closets, but considering Eric's propensity for clothes and his sense of style, he needed one. He threw everything in the baskets inside the closet and toed his shoes in their usual spot beside the shoe rack. He always got out his clothes for the next day the night before and that night was no different, even though it was 2AM. Haphazardly pulling out a pair of jeans and a lightweight long sleeve shirt off the top shelf, Eric noticed something fall into the laundry bin. Rummaging through the dirty clothes, he found what had fallen at the bottom of the bin: a long velvety box. Eyes drawn in confusion, Eric pulled it out and went back into the bedroom to open his find. When he did, his eyebrows rose in shock. The box contained a diamond tennis bracelet with eight emeralds interspersed equally between the diamonds. Who was this for? When had he bought it? Or had he? What was it for? All these questions and more circled in his head. Eric noticed something he hadn't at first glance. There was a small note folded up in the top half of the box. He extracted it and unfolded the small piece of paper. In his own handwriting was noted the following:

_For the woman of my dreams. Eight years of friendship. And much more._

What the hell? There was only one woman in his life he'd ever referred to as the woman of his dreams. But that would mean…what did it mean? _And much more. _

Eric's heart started to race, pound, and his breath began to get short and erratic, coming in bursts, hard and fast. Pinpricks darted in front of his eyes and Eric had to blink to prevent himself from passing out. What he was imagining wasn't possible. Because if it was—

"_Oh, Eric! I love it. It's gorgeous!" she exclaimed over her present. A one-touch espresso machine with all the bells and whistles. She'd been grumbling about not having coffee just the way she liked, dark, strong, and sweet. As Eric had taught her. "But it's not my birthday. So what's the occasion?" _

_Eric shrugged nonchalantly. "Nothing special. Just saw it in the store, on special, and I knew you were looking for one." _

"_Thank you so much," she said, throwing her arms around her friend and Eric had to repress a shudder at the feel of her body pressed to his. _

Another flash of something, imagination or memory, Eric didn't know, but it sure felt real.

_A bed. Satin sheets. Jasmine and gardenia. The scent of her on the sheets. Eric nuzzled his face into her pillow, reluctant to let the moment go. He didn't want a single thing to change. This was perfection. _

Again, this time much faster.

_They rolled in the leaf-covered damp grass, tussling and each trying to gain the upper hand. Finally, laughing, she gained the top position and straddled him, leaning down, breath whispering against his, her face just inches from his. A smile curved her lips and she said quietly, reverently, "I love you." Eric swiftly closed the distance and reached up with his mouth to capture hers in a passion-filled kiss, communicating all that he couldn't say at that moment for lack of speech. _

Eric came out of the visions gasping for air, reeling from what his mind had showed him. The images were all jumbled up and it was hard to keep grasp of any one thing, but he was sure of one constant in that moment: the woman in his visions was Calleigh. He was confused. Was he seeing truth, memories his mind had forgotten, as it had several other things? Or was what he was seeing an elaborate series of daydreams that had crossed over from the dream world? His imagination at work? Did he want this so badly his mind had to make up scenarios for him? A waking dream of sorts? Eric disregarded that thought cautiously. His heart told him at least some of this rung true, deep inside. If that was the case, Calleigh had been lying to him. He needed to find out for himself. He needed to talk with her. Now. Eric glanced at the clock. Two thirty in the morning was late, but this couldn't wait. Rushing through the apartment, Eric grabbed his keys on the way out and barely remembered to lock up, his mind was so preoccupied. Regardless of what the truth was, he needed to hear it from Calleigh.

***

As Calleigh raced away from Eric, it took everything in her not to turn around and lose herself in his arms again. Her traitorous body demanded it. But…He wasn't hers. Not now. Not ever again. By the time she reached Jake, who was holding a couple of drinks and looking annoyed, she thought she had her body under control. At least, on the outside. The inside was a whole other matter. Inside she was still trembling, reeling from her encounter with Eric. Something that should never have happened. Logic said so, but her heart and body were in disagreement. In fact, they wanted to wage war on her head. It wasn't the first time her intellect and her heart would disagree, especially over a man, and it wouldn't be the last. "Where were you?" Jake's voice was slightly accusing and Calleigh was definitely not in the mood for his attitude.

"I went to the ladies' room," she lied, taking the martini Jake held. Thankfully, the bathroom actually _was _in the direction from which she'd come.

"I've been looking for you for the last fifteen minutes," he continued, suspicious. Calleigh looked flushed, even more so than just dancing could do. Jake's keen eyes scanned the dance floor, looking for anyone who might seem familiar. Calleigh was averting her eyes and that was a sure sign that something was up, no matter how much she protested.

"The line was pretty long, as usual. There's never a line for the men's," she complained, trying to put enough irritation in her voice to convince her cop boyfriend. Jake searched her eyes, trying to read her, but could not find any real evidence beyond her flushed state to indicate something had happened. Besides, he thought, shaking his head slightly, Calleigh would never cheat on him. Well, except maybe with Delko. But the Cuban wasn't there.

At Jake's discontinuance of the interrogation, Calleigh breathed an internal sigh of relief. As much as she'd enjoyed their time together, participated (and initiated, a voice inside pointed out), she did not neither wanted nor needed the trouble that would come with Jake's knowledge of Eric's advances. To put Jake off even further, Calleigh pulled him on the opposite side of the club where she'd left Eric and they danced for another hour before leaving. How she made it through even that short time was a miracle. Especially when she was distracted by looking at every man that she saw within eye distance, verifying they weren't Eric. All the while trying to appear attentive to Jake and not make him suspicious. Even so, she didn't think she'd succeeded much when the ride home was completely silent. When they arrived back at her house, the sound of Jake's keys hitting the table at the door was deafening and it made Calleigh jump.

"Calleigh, what's going on? You've been silent almost the entire night, ever since the PD. Distant," Jake confronted.

"It's nothing, Jake. I'm just tired. Can't we just forget about tonight and go to bed?" she asked, wanting nothing more than to forget the night had happened. Wishing for what you couldn't have was stupid. _And pretending you didn't have your hands on Eric's body wasn't?_ a voice inside asked. _You want him. Get him. _It wasn't as simple as that. There was too much at stake. Too much water under the bridge.

Jake's reply ripped Calleigh out from her musings. "Dammit Calleigh, you can't just sweep everything under the rug. Sometime, eventually, maybe even very soon, you're going to have to confront whatever it is that is bothering you. The question is whether or not I'll be there. I'm getting sick and tired of this distance between us. I'm going home," he said, snatching up his keys and leaving, slamming the door shut.

The last time this…distance…had happened between them, she and Jake had broken up within a few months. An ominous shiver crept down her spine and it felt like someone had walked over her grave. Was it going to happen again? Calleigh replayed the last few months in her head, and began to see a definite trend on her part. As much as she had told herself she was in love with Jake, the way she had behaved—outwardly and inside—told a different story. It had started out so perfectly. He'd come back into her life and it was like she was that 20-year-old recruit again, carefree and happy to see her boyfriend, the man she had once loved so deeply during their training and after. But if she were honest with herself, she admitted one key fact: a small part of her had held back this time around. Not out of fear of commitment to Jake or because she was afraid of getting hurt by him again, but because she missed _him. _Although things had ended abruptly, Calleigh realized she hadn't quite let go. Of him. Of them. She wanted a second chance. Or maybe it was a third. As a knock sounded at her door and she got up to answer it, Calleigh thought, _but how do you tell your best friend you were involved when he couldn't remember it? _


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Thanks to my beta Jen G. Especially considering I sent this to her at 11PM EST. Thank her for me getting this out tonight instead of tomorrow. And please, no throwing of objects. I will update soon, people. As always, enjoy and please review. thanks!

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Chapter 6

Calleigh hesitantly got up at the knock at the door. Glancing at the clock on the wall, she cautiously walked over. Who the hell was at her door at 3AM? A peek through the peephole had her backing up a step, heart beginning to race. What was he doing here? He couldn't be here. She couldn't take this on top of everything else. She didn't want to open the door. She really didn't want to confront Eric about what had happened in the club, but whether or not she did it now or did it tomorrow, the conversation would happen. That much she was sure of. He probably had questions. Top of that list was where they went from here.

And then there was their past to contend with. Could she do it? Could she come out and tell him everything that had happened before the shooting? Did she want to? Six months after that terrible day when he'd woken up and not remembered anything. Things had changed and she was selfishly worried he'd hate her for not saying anything in the first place. _He deserves the truth, whatever his reaction is, _a voice inside whispered. Calleigh closed her eyes and jumped slightly at the insistent knock that sounded again. She could do this.

Reaching for the door, she said a little prayer for strength and finally opened it, meeting the dark eyes of her partner. "I know it's late, but this can't wait," Eric said, starting the conversation. "Can I come in?"

Calleigh pulled the door open more and stepped aside so he could walk in. Eric strode jerkily into the room, his movements sharp and quick. A worried frown creased her brow at his obvious agitation. "Look, Eric about tonight—"

"That's not why I'm here. Well, it is and isn't. After you left, I went home. I found something in my room that made me have these…visions or something. Dreams. I'm not real sure. But the point is, you were in them. Calleigh, what the hell is going on?" Eric turned to look at her, confusion written on his face. "Everything was fine after the shooting and now I'm having these dreams? Or something. I've gotten past the shooting, recovered, and now…"

"Dreams?" she whispered. "What kind of dreams?"

Eric flushed slightly and averted his eyes. "We're…together. It's…different. And then tonight, I'm at home and I have these…flashbacks? Or daydreams? I'm not real sure. But you're in them again and it, they _feel _so real. It's like they're real and I'm not, or maybe it's the visions that are fantasy and this is real? One of them had me giving you the espresso machine and I _know _that's real. I bought that for you just a year ago, but then there were two more. We were wrestling in grass somewhere, maybe a park? And we were laughing and it was real. It felt real. They felt like…memory," he said, confusion and panic in his voice, his eyes.

"And the dreams, I had the first one a couple of months ago. Every time I have another dream or find myself in the middle of a daydream or vision or whatever you call them, I always find myself feeling hollow inside after. Like something's missing. And it aches inside. It feels incomplete. _I _feel incomplete. Calleigh, I feel like I'm losing my mind. You know. You know what I'm talking about. You have to tell me the truth," he added, desperate pleading manifested in his eyes.

Calleigh felt irrational tears prick at her eyes. It would come out now. She couldn't hide the truth any longer, not from him and not from herself. Eric had a right to know what had happened before his shooting and it wasn't fair of her to keep it from him. It wasn't fair for her to have kept it from him for the last six months and she was terrified of his reaction once he learned. "I—" Her throat seized up on the words and Calleigh had to swallow twice before she could even attempt to get the truth out. "I h-have to t-tell you something, Eric and you're not going to like it. In fact, I'm pretty sure you're going to be angry and you'll have every right to that anger, but I hope you'll understand why I did what I did," she began, voice barely above a whisper. She was lucky to get even that much out.

Calleigh moved to sit on the sofa and Eric followed suit. She didn't think her legs would hold her up if she attempted to conduct this conversation standing. There was so much to say, to explain, but where to start? Eric must have seen the question in her eyes, because he answered quietly, "Start at the beginning."

She took a deep breath and began her tale.

"It started out small, little things. We went to the range together about six months before the shooting to practice. You said you wanted to be more proficient in long-range rifle work. I helped you, adjusting your technique, focusing your attention on the target and we went to the range just about every weekend. At first, it was just us, you and me, Calleigh and Eric, enjoying a Saturday morning at the range. But one of those Saturdays you asked me out to get coffee after shooting. We went to Terisita's and you introduced me to Mr. Suarez, who insisted I call him Antonio," Calleigh smiled briefly in fond remembrance.

"That afternoon we spent three hours just talking, not about work, about ourselves, what was going on, something we hadn't done for a couple of years. Ever since Tim died, we'd grown apart." At this, Eric nodded his head unconsciously, agreeing soberly with his partner. "It was nice. To be able to talk to you like I used to. I missed my best friend."

"I missed you too, Cal. But I don't remember that," Eric told her quietly.

Tears stung at her eyes. "There's a lot you don't remember, Eric." A deep breath was inhaled before Calleigh could continue her story. "The next Friday after work, a long shift, I invited you to join me for a late dinner. We went to Shooter's and what started as a dinner between friends turned into a date by the end of the night. You kissed me, so sweetly…" Calleigh closed her eyes and the tears that had clung precariously spilled over to her cheeks. For a few moments she relived that initial hesitant brush of lips, trembling inside, nervous butterflies in her stomach, head saying one thing and heart screaming another.

Calleigh's words struck something inside Eric and a brief flash of two cars, one behind the other, Eric following the first, familiar houses lining the street. "I followed you home, made sure you got back safe," he murmured.

Calleigh looked up at his words and nodded. "You remember?"

"I remember following you, not what happened before or after. A brief glimpse. My mind only shows me bits and pieces of the picture, not the whole," he explained.

"We spent the next two weeks going out after work. We took things slow. I wasn't keen on dating a co-worker, but you were…persuasive," Calleigh flushed, remembering just _how _persuasive the man sitting next to her was. He was relentless when he wanted something. And a year ago, he'd wanted Calleigh. "We made love for the first time about a month after our first date. It was…perfect," she whispered. "You were perfect. So attentive and…" Calleigh shuddered hard, body responding to sense memory. They hadn't made love in over six months, but her body still remembered. The press and weight of him covering her. Sweet kisses and even sweeter caresses.

Even as Eric's anger grew with each word, he had to shift in order to relieve the sudden tightness at his groin. He mentally berated himself for responding so intensely. He needed to concentrate on what she was saying. He couldn't afford to miss anything. The fact that Calleigh had lied to him, granted by omission, but still lies nevertheless, would be addressed but he had to suppress those feelings. He needed to know the truth now. He could freak out later.

"For the next couple of months, we dated and somewhere along that time, the relationship moved to another level. I'm not sure who fell first, but one day I realized that what I was feeling was love."

Eric's mind flashed back to the vision he'd had before he had come here. _They rolled in the leaf-covered damp grass, tussling and each trying to gain the upper hand. Finally, laughing, she gained the top position and straddled him, leaning down, breath whispering against his, her face just inches from his. A smile curved her lips and she said quietly, reverently, "I love you." Eric swiftly closed the distance and reached up with his mouth to capture hers in a passion-filled kiss, communicating all that he couldn't say at that moment for lack of speech. _

"I'd loved before. But this, us, felt different somehow. I think you felt the same. You said the words in return and from there, things changed. It was different. We were different."

"We were in love," Eric completed. He said the words Calleigh was afraid to.

She nodded and more tears slipped silently down her cheeks. "It was something new, I think, for both of us. I've never had the best track record with men and suddenly, I was with this person who I could literally tell anything to. My lover was my best friend and it had never happened that way before. Usually, the friendship came after the relationship had already fizzled out. We were so different I had no point of reference. I'm not sure, but I think you felt the same."

"I wasn't exactly Mr. Commitment before," he said quietly.

Calleigh continued. "A few weeks after I realized I was in love with you, I broke it off." Eric's breath drew in sharply. That explained the hollow feeling in his chest. "You have to understand, Eric, I was so confused. Things with us were so different, intense, and we worked together. I was worried about how our relationship would affect our work."

"You mean, you were afraid to be in love with someone who regularly played the field," Eric inserted, lips thinned in anger.

Calleigh shook her head. "It was perfect, Eric. We were perfect. Too perfect. It couldn't last, or at least that's what I told myself. And then you got shot and I spent so many hours waiting at your bedside, hoping and praying for a miracle. That you wouldn't leave me. I prayed and bargained and tried to make deals with God. You pulled through and then you woke up asking for Marisol. Something wasn't right. Besides that, when you looked at me, there was nothing in your eyes, Eric. Beyond 'nice to see my friend' warmth, there was nothing there. You didn't recognize what I was or had been in your life."

"You're the one who broke up with me," he reminded her angrily.

Calleigh closed her eyes again briefly and continued, "When I saw Alex outside your room, I told her you didn't remember Marisol was gone and she said sometimes memory loss is a part of the trauma that results from a wound like yours. You didn't remember me, Eric, and I thought, 'maybe it's better this way. Maybe we could go back to the way things were.'"

"And they did, for a while. Until I started to remember. That's what those dreams are about, aren't they? They're memories, of you and me. Together. God, I've been going insane over the last couple of months thinking I had no right to have these thoughts about you, about us, and this entire time, they've been my mind's way of showing me the truth. Showing me what you couldn't—no, wouldn't—tell me. Christ, Calleigh, you've been lying to me since I got out of the hospital," Eric swore, his volume increasing slightly with each sentence. Now that Calleigh's 'story' was concluded, he could feel himself getting more and more angry, with her, the situation, and irrationally, at himself. How could he forget something this incredibly important? After Horatio had told him Mari was dead, the memories had come flooding back, but that hadn't happened this time around. No montage. Instead, they'd started to filter in through his subconscious, trickling in a little bit at a time.

"Eric, I know you're angry—" Calleigh started.

"Angry?" Eric asked, a brittle laugh shattering the room. "Angry, Calleigh? Try livid. You've been lying to me by omission for six months. My best friend."

She flinched at his tone, but trudged on. "I know you're angry and you have every right to be, and I know these words seem trite, but I'm sorry. I should have told you from the beginning, the moment you walked out of the hospital. But you were recovering and it didn't seem the right time. And then Jake came back into my life and then it just didn't seem right to drop something like this on you. And I thought, what harm could it do? And I was wrong, in so many ways. I can't take any of it back, Eric, no matter how much I wish I could. For as many dreams you've had of us, I've had triple the amount of regrets. Regrets I didn't tell you when I should. Regrets that I pushed you away in the first place. I still love you," she finished in a soft whisper.

"What?" Eric asked, not sure if he'd heard what he thought he'd heard. It wasn't possible.

"I still love you," she looked up bravely into his eyes, the truth of her words shining brightly in their depths. No matter how much she'd convinced herself she'd moved on, Calleigh knew the truth. For the last six months, she'd tried to convince herself, her heart and her head, but her heart knew the truth. She'd never stopped loving Eric.

He shook his head and stood up, walked swiftly to the hallway, grabbed his jacket, and turned to face her. She had followed him to the entrance and stood a few feet back, having had to take a step back when he turned. "No, no, no. No, Calleigh. You do not get to pass go and collect $200. You can't just wave a magic wand over this and make it go away. The fact of the matter is that we were involved before the shooting and you broke up with me. Not the other way around. You're the one who kept our involvement to yourself. You're the one who 'moved on' with Jake. You're the one who decided everything for us. I'm done playing games, Calleigh. I'm done with you." At that, Calleigh had to suppress a sob. "And now, for the first time in almost a year, I'm going to make a decision and leave."

A sound behind Eric had him turning and Calleigh looking past him to see what the noise was. A gasp escaped her lips at the sight of Jake standing in the doorway, key to her place dangling in his loose grasp, a look of shocked surprise and hurt, anger and confusion on his face. Eric grabbed his keys and brushed past Jake, who still stood in the doorway, completely floored by what he'd just heard. Jake crossed the threshold and closed the door behind him as gently as he could in direct opposition to the way he really wanted to: slam it closed. Express the depth of his anger and betrayal. "What the hell just happened?" he asked tersely.

A jumble of thoughts were trying to fight their way to the forefront of her mind regarding Eric, but Calleigh could only process one: Just how much had Jake overheard?


	7. Chapter 7

Eric bolted out of Calleigh's condo like the hounds of hell were nipping at his heels. He couldn't get away fast enough. A jumble of emotions followed him, each vying for supremacy, each one staggeringly sharp and forceful. Confusion. Pain. Anger. Rage. Betrayal. Eric had to fight the almost overwhelming urge to puke his guts out at the incredible revelations that had been shown to him this evening. So much to process and he'd barely had any time to do so. The elevator ride seemed unendingly long and Eric passed the moments by slowly counting, a technique his therapist had taught him when sensations or thoughts became too vivid and overwhelming to process. His neurons still overloaded with data and tonight's revelations would certainly fit the bill.

His heart was still pounding when he made it to his car and peeled out of the parking lot, casting a glare at Jake's motorcycle. Irrationally, he was angry with Jake for staying. In spite of everything he'd found out tonight, he was still concerned about Calleigh and did not like the thought of Jake with her right now. How much had he heard? What was his state of mind? But he was angry with her, beyond angry, and he tried to push all thoughts beyond his own emotions to the back of his mind. Let Calleigh deal with the mess she'd made. For once, he and Jake were kind of on the same side, having been betrayed by the woman they loved.

The drive home was occupied by his thoughts, his mind still reeling. Pain that they had had something special and he couldn't remember ate at him. They'd been involved and he hadn't recalled something so incredibly important. Guilt was right on the heels of that emotion for the same reasons. Anger and rage, and most of all, betrayal that Calleigh had kept something so phenomenal from him. She'd essentially pretended it had never happened for six months, since his shooting and waking up in the hospital.

If he supposedly meant so much to her, how could she have done such a thing? And to top it all off, she'd started a relationship with Jake, an old flame, practically weeks after he returned. _I still love you. _Eric laughed harshly, the sound splitting the night air like a crack of thunder. Some way to show it. Even if they were no longer together, she should have told him within weeks of leaving the hospital, if not that afternoon when she realized he had memory gaps. Although, looking back on that day now, the dead look in her eyes could be explained by more than just his memory loss regarding Marisol's death.

Even so, her excuse for not telling him as soon as possible fell completely flat. She didn't tell him not out of concern for him, but selfish protection for herself. _She _was the one with intimacy issues; that much Eric knew. His memory was still intensely spotty on the subject heading marked 'Eric and Calleigh's Relationship,' of which there were only a few solid memories, but he knew she was the one with the problem. Something in his gut told him he had wanted what they had for those brief few months, but now? He didn't know what he wanted. There was one thing he was sure of right now: He wanted nothing of Calleigh.

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Jake stood in the middle of Calleigh's hallway, completely floored by what he'd overheard. Snippets of the conversation hammered away at his mind and he tried to process the information. Nothing was making sense and he didn't like not knowing what was going on. He didn't like surprises and this was one hell of a surprise. "What the hell is going on?" he asked tersely. "What was all that about?"

Calleigh turned away and walked back into the living room. She hesitated at the sofa Eric had so recently vacated and then sat down. Jake still hadn't moved from his spot in the hall and so she tilted her head to indicate he should join her.

When he did, Jake sat tensely, waiting. Hoping he had misinterpreted what he'd overheard. He had heard them down the hall, Eric's voice gaining volume with every word he spoke. Snippets of words and phrases had filtered down the corridor and he heard Calleigh, a desperate, pleading tone in her voice, unmistakable. A sense of hurt he'd never heard from her, even in some of their most volatile fights when they were in the Academy. He had quietly opened the door to the condo with the key she had given him weeks ago, concerned for her, worried about Eric's intentions. He didn't know the man very well and who knew how he would react? He had caught the tail end of the conversation…

"…_. we were involved before the shooting and you broke up with me. Not the other way around. You're the one who kept our involvement to yourself. You're the one who 'moved on' with Jake. You're the one who decided everything for us. I'm done playing games, Calleigh. I'm done with you." At that, Calleigh had to suppress a sob. "And now, for the first time in almost a year, I'm going to make a decision and leave." _

And now, here he was, in her living room, waiting for an answer to his question when he already knew the answer.

Calleigh looked up at him and opened her mouth, tried to get words out, but failed. Tried again. "Jake…"

Something in him snapped at the soft tone of her voice speaking his name. "Just tell me, Calleigh. No, you know what? Don't. You're in love with him. I heard the two of you. I can piece it together. I'm an investigator. You were involved. Before the shooting. The question is, have you been seeing him while you've been with me?"

Still at a loss for words, Calleigh vehemently shook her head. A few seconds of silence between them had Calleigh grasping for the voice to speak the words that had needed to be said for six months. "I'm sorry Jake. We were together before the shooting and then we broke up a few weeks before it happened. After the shooting, we started to date and I tried to put Eric and what we had had behind me."

Anger and betrayal flooded Jake. "So…what? I was just a fling for you? A way to pass the time until Delko remembered?"

Calleigh adamantly stated, "God no. I threw myself into this relationship with you. You were different and yet the same. Sweet and cocky, but not full of yourself like when we were in the Academy. You had changed and I thought to give us a second chance, because what if?"

"But you're in love with Delko. You never stopped being in love with him. Even while you've been seeing me. You know, I noticed the faraway look in your eyes sometimes, glimpsed this flicker of sadness, and I tried to get you open up to me, but you never did."

"I was trying, Jake. I wanted to try with you," she said quietly. Jake hadn't just been a fling. What they had had was real and for a while, it was what she had needed.

"But it hasn't worked, Calleigh. You close up sometimes and I can't reach you. And recently, with the last couple of days, you've been even more distant. Tonight was a perfect example."

Calleigh felt her face warm and she prayed her thoughts about earlier that night didn't show. She may not love Jake, but she didn't want to be cruel. He deserved better than that.

"I guess I've been seeing all the little signs for weeks now, but I just haven't wanted to admit it. The faraway looks, the sad glances out windows…your heart hasn't been in this for a while now, if it ever was," he added wryly. "It was all for him. You're still hung up on him, Calleigh," he concluded, stating a fact she'd only realized within the last few hours. The anger was buried at the moment, and instead Jake was flooded with weariness. God, he was so tired. Tired of this job. Tired of this relationship, or lack of one. Tired of fighting the inevitable: that he was going to lose Calleigh, for good this time. She loved Delko. It was there in her eyes as Delko had stalked out earlier. And, if Jake were honest with himself, he'd never seen her react that way to anyone, even when they broke up the first time.

Calleigh looked at him pleadingly, urging him to see the truth in her eyes, tears slipping silently down her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Jake. I can't pretend I don't love him, that I miss him. I never meant to hurt you, to make it seem that you were just a moment in time. But I can't…continue this when my heart's somewhere else. You deserve better."

"Yeah, I do," Jake said quietly, reaching over and squeezing her hand gently before getting up and walking to the hall. Calleigh didn't follow him and for once, he was glad. He didn't think he could walk away as easily as he said if she had watched him leave. He removed the key to her home and set it softly on the end table and walked out, closing the door behind him with a soft, final click.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Hope you like this chapter. I will warn you. It's very angsty. But do not fear, all will end well. I'm not one for angsty endings...usually. But not with this fic. Please read and review. Let me know whatcha think. Enjoy. **

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The soft snick of her door closing was like the sound of a gavel in a courtroom, signaling the end of their relationship. Final. Finished. Completed. That soft sound, quiet in the deafening silence which enveloped her condo, instigated a barrage of tears that seemed never-ending. Six plus months of denied grief came down on her shoulders and Calleigh's slender form couldn't take the weight. Christ, what had she done? In a matter of under an hour, she'd broken up with her boyfriend and lost her best friend.

_I'm done playing games, Calleigh. I'm done with you. _

But she hadn't been playing games. None of this was a game to her. She'd done what she thought was best at the time and let Eric move on, even though something inside had died a little. She'd moved on too and gotten involved with a man she knew now she had no business becoming intimate with. Jake hadn't deserved what he got from her and now she'd lost a friend.

And as for Eric… _I'm done with you. _A fresh set of tears spilled over onto flushed cheeks. He wanted nothing to do with her, as he'd said. She'd lost the man she loved. And for what? To protect herself. For the first time, she admitted the truth. She hadn't broken up with him because she wanted to protect him. She hadn't told him about them after the shooting not because she wanted to make things easier for him, but to make things easier for her. Selfish concern for her own heart motivated her actions, not any altruistic concern for her partner, her lover. She'd never been in love like that before. Jake had been her first true grown-up love while they were in the Academy. But even the memories of that time paled in comparison to the knowledge of what she'd felt for Eric. She'd loved him like she'd never loved anyone else.

Such a short time! It was such a short time from when they started dating to feeling that way about him. He'd always been there for her, five years of friendship, and she'd barely entertained the idea of the two of them as a couple. Once or twice, she'd fancied asking him out, but never seriously, simply because they worked together and she'd been down that road before: dating a co-worker, losing colleagues' respect, losing _his _respect, and ultimately, her job. She'd had to change jobs, move an entire state away to get out from under the rumors, whispers, and gossip. She'd sworn she'd never do that again. And yet she'd found herself in exactly that position, or the early stages at least. Somewhere under all that _feeling _for Eric had been a core of fear. Fear it wouldn't last. Fear he'd lose respect for her. Fear she'd lose her co-workers' admiration and respect. Fear she'd lose everything she'd worked so hard to obtain. And so, she acknowledged, she'd sabotaged their budding relationship just as they'd begun to comprehend exactly how they were feeling.

She hadn't realized just how much she would miss him. In those weeks immediately after the break-up and then again, after he returned to work after being cleared for duty, she tried to put on a brave front at work, pretending nothing was wrong, acting so damn professional…but inside…on the inside…when she went home at night, things were different. The walls came down and the tears came to the forefront, tears she had to suppress during the daytime hours when they worked a case together. Holding her breath when he walked by so she wouldn't get a noseful of that woodsy masculine scent that was Eric's personal cologne. Tensing her body just slightly when he got too close, bracing herself for the intense awareness of his heat pressed close to hers…

And now…now it was so much worse. At least then she'd known, on a subconscious level, that it was a possibility they could get back together. Those three short weeks before the shooting, she'd caught herself thinking a couple of times that maybe, _maybe _she could get over her fears and let herself be happy. But each time something had stopped her. The fear was greater than her love, she was ashamed to admit. And then after the shooting even as she'd made the conscious decision not to tell Eric, she'd irrationally hoped, however dimly a possibility, that he'd recall their relationship on his own, take the decision, the choice, out of her hands and confront her directly.

Well, she'd gotten her wish, however poorly thought out it was, and now she had no one but herself to blame. It was so completely different from what she'd envisioned, but really? How could she have thought it would end any other way? Eric wanted nothing to do with her. He was angry, pissed off, betrayed by her. A bitter laugh escaped briefly before being silenced by the press of her lips. Now he knew the truth and nothing she could say or do was going to bring him back.

Regret was a cold blanket over her body as Calleigh rocked back and forth slightly to comfort herself. She was alone. She'd lost him. As much as she wished him with her, the reality was he wanted nothing to do with her. The air conditioning kicked in and a desolate hum from the machine started cold air circulating throughout the condo. And for some reason, the combination of the utter silence in the room and the complete lack of warmth had Calleigh feeling more alone than she'd ever felt before. Pulling a throw from the back of the sofa, Calleigh curled up tightly on the sofa, nuzzled the soft fleece, trying to divine some warmth from the fabric. Eric had been her warmth. Her blanket. Her everything for six brief, all too brief months. A bleak thought lit in her mind as she cried herself to sleep. _I'll never be warm again. _

Eric rubbed gritty eyes as he walked into the lab. The previous night or rather morning hadn't left him with much time for sleep. And even if he'd had eight full-uninterrupted hours to dedicate to the activity, he suspected it still would not have come to pass. Not after what he'd learned. Thinking about Calleigh's deception had kept him up the remainder of the night and he hadn't even gotten fifteen minutes sleep before the sun was rising over the horizon and it was time to get ready to go to work. No matter how pissed off he might be at Calleigh, there was work to be done and Eric wasn't one for taking off without a damn good reason. And in his estimation, wanting to call in sick just to avoid her wasn't a good reason.

So he dragged himself into the office, having tossed his dress shirt from the night before into the dryer to get the wrinkles out and redressed in that and white Chinos. Inexplicably, Eric found his eyes wandering to every corner of the lab, searching for silky blonde straight hair as though she'd magically appear. It had him scowling in earnest at the thought he was actively searching her out. What the hell for? He shouldn't even be thinking about her right now.

Heading into the locker room, he snagged his lab coat from his locker and walked over to Fingerprints to start manually hunting for a match on several prints taken from the nightshift the evening before. He snapped on the latex gloves he acquired from a box inside the glass walls and went to town.

It wasn't long before he was absorbed into his task. So absorbed he failed to notice a presence behind him until a soft voice cleared the throat. Instantly, before he'd even raised his eyes from the magnifying glass, he knew who was behind him and he wasn't in the mood.

"Eric, please give me a cha—" Calleigh started.

Eric rose swiftly from his hunched-over position and confronted her. "A chance to explain, Calleigh? Explain what? I think you said enough last night," he said furiously in a low voice, trying to keep his voice from carrying to the outside world. The lab's walls were constructed of glass, as was pretty much every department, and the last thing he wanted was for his co-workers to get into his business.

"Eric, there's a lot I still need to explain," Calleigh replied quietly, fidgeting slightly, wanting to move closer, but wanting to respect his personal space.

Eric moved swiftly into her, into her personal space, and whispered furiously, "Damn you, Calleigh. Did it ever occur to you that I neither want nor need any more of your fucking explanations? There's nothing you can say that could erase what you did to us six months ago!"

His voice had risen slightly with each word, such that several curious co-workers passed by seemingly innocently, but in reality, they were fishing for information to feed the gossip mill. Tension was expressed in every line of his body and several wondered just what the duo were discussing. Obviously something of a personal nature. No one got this worked up over business.

He backed off instantly, giving her breathing room. "I'm done talking, Calleigh. I just…can't talk to you right now. Maybe not ever, I don't know. Just leave me alone, please," he added, the last sentence unwittingly taking on a pleading tone. Calleigh's face crumpled for a split second and Eric saw past the brave front to the vulnerable woman beneath and he had to fight with himself not to reach out. Not to touch and hold. Comfort and console.

Calleigh's vulnerable side disappeared an instant later and Eric had to wonder if he'd imagined that single sadness-tinged moment. Her unflappable exterior was back and the composed, rational side to her personality took over, walking out of the room without another word spoken, clearly giving Eric what he so desperately needed.

Calleigh walked as swiftly as she could to the firing range without arousing anyone else's suspicions. The confrontation with Eric had been a mistake, she realized. Just one more gallon of gasoline to fuel the fire that was the gossip over her and Eric. The rumor mill had always revolved around the two of them: did they? Or didn't they? Will they, won't they? It was one thing or another, but until the last year, none of it had been true and she'd been able to unequivocally deny anything was going on. But if today was any indicator, the mill would be working in overtime. She'd gotten nowhere with Eric and taking a chance had only put them back in the spotlight. As well as started the bleeding on the open wound that was her heart.

His words had been harsh, but heart-felt and true. She always knew when he was lying and he hadn't been then. He really didn't want to talk to her, not now, maybe not ever, she recalled his words.

Having reached the range, Calleigh let herself go on autopilot and prepped for a couple of rounds of target practice, a ritual which almost never failed to center her. Because that was exactly what she needed. She felt her center was out of place. Just like months earlier, it was the same feeling. This pain, never-ending it seemed, but this time, sharper, harder, edgier, because Eric's emotions were so much more than before.

And that was how Horatio found her—focused on the target, so focused, she didn't even realize he was there until she finished her last clip and he said softly, "Calleigh." She jumped slightly at his low voice and placed her weapon on the table before turning to him.

"What's up?" Calleigh tried for bright, but she suspected she failed as he narrowed his eyes at her and she had to suppress a wince.

"Homicide on North Miami Boulevard. Take Eric," he said.

Calleigh definitely had to suppress a grimace and he must have seen a glimpse of something in her eyes. Pain. Fear. Anguish maybe, because Horatio looked at her in concern. "Is there something wrong? Is everything okay with you and Eric?"

She didn't want to air her, their, dirty laundry and so she forced a smile. "Of course not. Eric's fine. I'm good. I just know Eric's busy looking over some prints."

"Not anymore. I just came from him. He's getting geared up as we speak," Horatio said briefly before looking into her eyes once more. Seemingly satisfied by whatever he saw, he turned and walked out of the range, leaving Calleigh alone.

Great. Just what she needed. Several hours of interaction with a man who couldn't stand to be around her. This day was just getting better and better…


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Okay, you asked for more. Here it is. Hope you like the interaction. Actually, I'm pretty sure you will. lol. I've got some interesting plans for Chapter 10, which if my muse keeps up like this, will be out within a week.  


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Surprisingly, Eric was waiting for her in the parking lot after she'd grabbed her gear. The surprise must have been on her face as she climbed tentatively into the Hummer because he remarked, "Look, Calleigh, we may not be getting along right now—" A sardonic twist of his lips underscored his point. "—But that doesn't mean our jobs should suffer for it."

Silently Calleigh agreed and voiced her opinion through a nod. She could seem to find the words, or the fortitude to work her throat enough to get past the knot that had lodged itself there.

The ride to the crime scene was silent. Eric didn't turn on the radio like he usually did and so there was no background noise to fill the thick tension. She could feel the animosity coming off him in waves and it affected her in several ways. Calleigh had to close her eyes several times and silently count down from ten, a trick she'd learned from the Academy when panic would set in. Nowadays she very, very seldom had them, but when she was younger, anxiety attacks had nearly crippled her. So infrequently did she have them now, Calleigh almost didn't recognize the subtle signs of an attack until it was almost too late. She tried to forcefully control her breathing, calm her shaky nerves. Even so, full-length body tremors shook her frame and she prayed Eric would not notice.

But that was not the case. Eric could see her from the corner of his eye and found himself intensely aware of the woman next to him. So the second her posture changed, he noticed. At first, he ignored it, but when the signs became worse, he turned his head to glance at her in concern. "Are you all right? Calleigh, do you need me to stop?" He reached out his hand, instinctively about to offer comfort, but he stopped, his hand hovering briefly over her tightly clenched fist on her lap. As he realized his action, Eric started to pull back, but a soft sound from Calleigh had him ignoring his head and going on pure instinct: he covered her cold, white-knuckled hand with his warm one and rhythmically rubbed his thumb back and forth over her knuckles, trying to offer some modicum of comfort, however small.

Calleigh concentrated on the distraction of his hand over hers. It was warm, almost hot, to her cold fingers, and slowly the warmth from his body seeped into her through that one point of contact. Her nerves lit up like lights on a Christmas tree, sensitized and alert to his soft touch.

"Relax, Calleigh. Everything's going to be all right," Eric murmured soothingly, trying to keep one eye on the road and one on her, watching for any changes in her behavior that whatever this was would get worse, or hopefully, better.

Several long minutes later, Calleigh's breathing evened out, her heart stopped pounding, and the anxiety attack drifted away. Her breathing was still slightly above normal, but at least she didn't feel like she had before. Eric's words penetrated her fogged brain, but she could find no voice to articulate her thoughts.

Eric slowly withdrew his hand, a part of him fighting himself, wanting to keep holding her, but another stronger, bigger part of him instinctively drew back. She was okay now. "Better?" he asked.

She nodded, unable to speak, but a soft sound escaped at the loss of his warmth.

Eric sighed tiredly. "I…can't, Calleigh. Nothing's changed. I just can't. Not right now. I don't know if that'll ever change." _Maybe not ever. _The words went unspoken, but Calleigh heard them as clearly as if he'd shouted. A silent testament to the hurt, anger, and betrayal he felt.

A glimmer of tears sparkled in her eyes for a second, but then Calleigh forcefully pulled them back, fought to keep them contained. She didn't want Eric to think she was weak, even if she felt that way. She might have lost her friend, but she would not lose the respect of a colleague.

Miranda Waters, a young high-powered attorney who never went anywhere unless she was perfectly groomed, was sprawled imperfectly across her travertine-tiled floor in the living room. Blood was pooled around the head and a nasty gash greeted the CSIs and Alexx, who'd arrived a few minutes before.

Alexx turned from the body at the approach of heeled shoes. She'd know that rhythm anywhere. "Good morning, baby. Eric," she said, smiling at them before turning back to her victim.

Calleigh flashed a patently fake smile before bending down to her co-worker's height. She'd perfected the art of pretending everything was okay many years ago, pretending nothing was wrong when the police came back to the manor because of one of Dad's drunken rages or Mom's pill-popping stupors. "Nice to see you too. What've we got?"

"I'll start processing the kitchen," Eric stated before moving on, barely sparing Calleigh or Alexx a glance, clearly distracted, or rather, trying to distract himself.

Alexx slid a curious glance her way and asked, "Is everything all right with him? Eric seems off."

Calleigh forced yet another bright smile. "To my knowledge. He hasn't said anything to me."

Alexx had been working with Calleigh for over eight years now. When people, and in particular, law enforcement, used the phrase, 'to my knowledge,' or something to that effect, something was up. It was a qualifier. No one said that unless you were trying to evade directly answering a question. Yes, something was definitely wrong with Eric. And as Alexx surreptitiously examined Calleigh over the dead body, she came to the same conclusion about her friend. The subtle signs were there: bags under the eyes no amount of makeup could fully conceal, a slight tightening of her lips to indicate stress and a worried furrow above her brow, things she was sure Calleigh didn't know about otherwise she'd have relaxed her facial muscles instantly.

Calleigh looked up and caught the intense gaze of Alexx and flushed slightly. She knew something. Somehow, Alexx knew something.

"What about you, baby? Are you okay?" Alexx tentatively asked. Calleigh wasn't one for deep conversations, not usually. She kept her private life private and work was work. They'd only had a couple of in-depth conversations over the years resulting from some heavy stress situations related to work: Tim's death, Hagan's suicide, and on one lonely occasion when the stress of waiting had been too much, Eric's shooting.

Calleigh's laugh was brittle, even to her own ears. "Of course. I couldn't be better. Now, what time was TOD? Can you tell the manner of death?" she asked, changing the subject. Surprisingly, gratefully, Alexx didn't press for further information or call her out on the obviously fake comments.

"Time of death was approximately eight to ten hours ago and my preliminary examination reveals possibly sharp-force trauma to the forehead," Alexx replied, motioning to the gash in the woman's temple, allowing Calleigh a reprieve. Besides, now wasn't the time to talk about whatever was bothering her, and Eric for that matter. Being a mother was sometimes a blessing and a curse. At this time, she couldn't be happier for that innate sixth sense because it allowed her to see past the front Calleigh was putting on. She'd allow Calleigh her space now, but eventually… "Honey, you know you can talk to me about anything, right?" she said quietly, meeting her eyes.

"I know," Calleigh said soberly. Alexx had been there through some of the toughest times of her life these last eight years.

Apparently satisfied, Alexx let the matter drop for the moment and they moved on.

Eric could hear soft voices coming from the living room and strained to hear what they were saying, wondering if they were talking about the case or about him and Calleigh. Only a word or two drifted from one room to the next and Eric caught himself wandering over to the entryway for better listening. His ears burned in embarrassment. What business of his was it if they were talking? He had no right to intrude on their conversation. Alexx and Calleigh were close, or at least, closer than most in the lab. Before this, he'd have said he was her closest friend. Now…now things had changed, and he didn't know where it left them.

God, he was so angry with her. For what she'd said. For what she hadn't said. Over the last six plus months and for thinking he could get over it quickly. Understand where she'd come from. That was a joke. He could barely comprehend his own emotions. What made her think he could handle hers?

Turning away from the entryway took more strength than he was proud of, but Eric moved back into the kitchen, massive as it was and got back to work. He collected prints and fibers from the surfaces and moved on to the cabinets. What appeared to be a cabinet turned into a trash compactor as he pulled the nickel-plated handle. A flash of his light revealed copious amounts of compacted garbage, but a shiny edge of something glinted in the light. Gloved up, Eric reached in and grasped the corner of the shiny metal peaking from the mass of trash. Pulling it out took some time, removing the pieces of refuse, but finally the mass was out and in his hands. A crumpled up metal or possibly silver-edged frame encrusted with something red was revealed. Eric quickly tested the red spots and, as he suspected, it popped positive for blood. "Found the murder weapon," he hollered to the pair.

The next four hours passed in almost complete silence and Alexx was starting to get antsy. With the exception of talking to her, neither one of them had much to say to each other, beyond comments related to the case. The temperature had dropped several degrees, despite the fact it was a balmy eighty-four degrees outside and the temperature inside wasn't much better due to their frosty reception of each other. She quietly observed the pair and believed _they _thought they were fooling her, convincing her everything was fine, but that couldn't be further from the truth. They weren't convincing anyone, least of all her.

Calleigh strolled through the halls, on her way to Alexx in Autopsy. She'd called a little bit ago to say she'd found something on the body. Everyone she passed seemed to be looking at her and Calleigh felt like a fiber under a 'scope, observed and speculated on. Of course, it was just her imagination, but Calleigh didn't know that. She was convinced everyone knew something. Like maybe what she'd done, or didn't do, was written all over her face. Attempting to school her face into a blank mask, she hurried down to Autopsy.

Alexx's warm smile was a welcome reprieve from all the prying eyes. Here, she could hide for a while. Not many came to Autopsy voluntarily, or for very long. Calleigh had found it was one of the few places she could get some privacy in a lab where everyone knew everything. "So, what did you find?" she asked.

Alexx pulled off the latex gloves and rotated her neck, working out the kinks, before replying. "A couple of fibers, some sort of foreign material I pulled from the body. I have them ready for you." She nodded toward three small vessels, each containing different materials separated from the victim. Calleigh snapped them up and held them to the light, examining them with her eyes, as if able to identify the materials visually. "Calleigh," Alexx approached. They were alone, as alone as they were going to get, and now was as good a time as any.

Calleigh took her concentration off the vials long enough to look down. Alexx caught her eyes and held her gaze. In her brown eyes, there was a wealth of knowledge, half-divined, half-intuition, and underneath all that knowledge, was concern. For her. For him. Calleigh could see it all in Alexx's eyes and suddenly, the weight of the last six months came down on her shoulders and there was a burning need talk to someone. She'd kept it all in, to herself, and now she wanted to share her thoughts, feelings, and motivations. So that maybe _someone _could understand why she'd done what she'd done. Tears pricked her eyes, Calleigh had to blink furiously to keep them at bay, and her breath hitched slightly as she said softly, "Can we get a drink after shift?"

Alexx's face softened considerably and a small sympathetic smile graced her face. "Of course, baby. We'll get more than a drink. We'll get dinner. That's what friends are for." Alex could see the anguish in Calleigh's eyes and whatever was bothering her was going to take longer than a drink or two to explain.

Eric spent the rest of the day processing the evidence recovered from the scene: prints, fibers, and even a smidge of skin left behind on the frame. Several times he caught out of the corner of his eye a glimpse of blonde hair flowing and his head would turn swiftly or jerk up to watch as Calleigh walked by. Once, their eyes met for a moment before Eric dropped his gaze. Quickly, he averted his gaze and pretended to be paying attention to the test in front of him.

Even as he subconsciously sought her out, Eric berated himself for it when he caught himself. He was so pissed off at her. For everything, but he couldn't take his eyes off her. What the hell was up with that? Why should he be so concerned with her when she hadn't been with him? Selfish. That's what Calleigh had been when she failed to tell him the truth months ago. And she'd had all this time to do so. If she could be so self-absorbed, then so could he. And if a part of his self wanted to shake some sense into himself, the rest of Eric ignored the minority.

Eric's thoughts were cut off abruptly by the silent approach of his boss and Eric visibly jumped as Horatio asked, "Where are we on the Santino case from this morning?"

Eric came back down from the stratosphere. "I'm running the prints I lifted off the frame in AFIS as we speak. So far no match. The lab's backed up in Fibers and DNA's going to take a while. So we're playing the waiting game."

"In the meantime, let's not keep our other cases waiting," Horatio quipped. He was standing outside the lab for some time before coming in and had observed Eric silently, allowing his impressions of the situation to filter through before approaching him.

Eric nodded in assent and pulled a couple of files he'd been working on and off for the last few weeks. Sometimes the wheels of justice, when they turned, turned slowly. He noticed Horatio staring at him strangely. "Is that all?" he asked, a bit uncomfortable by the penetrating stare. H had an uncanny ability to pick up almost hidden signals of fear, despair, anger, any strong emotions and Eric feared it left him wide open to interpretation.

His fears were founded. "Eric, is there anything you want to tell me?" Horatio asked, fiddling with his sunglasses, which he'd removed from his shirt pocket.

Eric shook his head lightly. "Nah. I'm fine," he said succinctly. As much as Horatio had once been family, he was still his boss and one sure fire way to get yourself fired was to tell your boss you and a senior co-worker had burnt up the sheets. Not that he thought Horatio would betray a confidence, but he didn't want to put him in that kind of position in case something went south with IAB or any of their bosses. Besides, Horatio wasn't family anymore and as much as it pained Eric to admit it, Marisol's death had changed their dynamic. And not for the better. He just didn't quite feel right talking to Horatio about his problems with Calleigh.

Horatio could tell something was bothering him, him and Calleigh, but he was a good enough boss to know when to push and when to leave it alone and this was definitely one of those 'leave it alone' moments. For both of them. As long as whatever problem they were having didn't interfere with their jobs, he would let them work it out on their own.

After shift, Calleigh and Alexx drove to the nearby restaurant and bar Solas. Typically crowded on a weekday immediately after work, surprisingly it was not that evening. And that boded well for the long and involved conversation Alexx thought they would be having. On the weekdays it was a place for upper middleclass workers to relax and unwind after a hard day at work. Located in the heart of downtown Miami, it was flanked by much larger, elaborate restaurants, but had maintained its regulars over the years, and two of those regulars included Calleigh and Alexx. The hostess Jennifer sat them at a half-moon booth table, affording them some privacy while they conversed.

After they had placed their orders for dinner and obtained their glasses of wine, which both thought secretly would be needed, they sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, each gathering their thoughts and strength to start a conversation which was sure to be intense and revealing. If the inside of the room had been bright, airy, and the lights starkly harsh Calleigh suspected she could not have revealed her thoughts. But it wasn't. The interior of the restaurant was dimly lit, and unwittingly, the dark and smoky interior allowed Calleigh to feel comfortable enough to break the silence and speak about a topic that, until Eric, had remained a secret in her heart for so many months.

"It started about a year ago…" and so began Calleigh's story. She laid out everything, how they began dating, how they fell in love, her feelings regarding that emotion, her fears and terrors. The breakup and the fall out immediately following. Eric's shooting and her anguish over him not making it. The aftermath and the realization Eric couldn't remember what they'd been to each other, her decision to keep it that way, Jake, Eric realizing the truth, last night. All of it.

"Oh, baby…" Alexx was pretty much speechless. A hand reached out and covered Calleigh's, trying to convey some warmth and support to the obviously distraught young woman. It was long, involved, and every bit as heart-wrenching as Alexx had suspected, although nowhere near what she'd been thinking.

"You have to understand, Alexx. I didn't tell him because I was so scared. Of how quickly things had progressed, how in love I found myself. I'd been in love before, but this time it was different, _more _somehow. Perfect, absolutely perfect. We didn't fight. We talked about _everything_. It was so easy, this relationship. Having my best friend as my lover was new and unique and scary. What if the lab found out? What if we broke up down the road? I've been in the position where I'm the butt of jokes and whispers because I'm dating a co-worker. I didn't want to go that route again. So I broke up with him. You should have seen his face," she whispered, remembering the utter look of devastation, unable to comprehend where it was coming from. "God, Alexx, I destroyed the one relationship that ever made perfect, absolute sense," she ended.

Several times the waiter had attempted to come to the table during Calleigh's speech, but each time Alexx discreetly waived him off, not wanting to interrupt the flow of her thoughts, understanding that if she didn't get it all out at once, she might not at all. "And what about today?"

A laugh tinkled out, and Alexx had to refrain from wincing. The sound was more like glass breaking, brittle and sharp. "Today, Eric doesn't want anything to do with me. Not now. Maybe not ever, as he said this morning."

"Baby, you have to give him some time. Right now, Eric's extremely angry. He's feeling betrayed and beneath all that anger is a hard core of pain. He remembers your relationship from those months, so he knows just how in love you were."

Calleigh shook her head. "No, he remembers bits and pieces."

Alexx's eyebrow rose and she leveled Calleigh with a penetrating stare. "Regardless, he knows you were in love. Simple as that. No one just _stops_ being in love with someone. To him, his memories are fresh, about as fresh as if they occurred yesterday. Because of the amnesia over the last six months or so, the memories are going to feel both like they're brand new and also six months old. It's conflicting for him. Something his mind is having trouble wrapping around. Give him some time to cool down and get his head on straight. If I know that boy like I think I do, there's no way he's not still in love with you. The memories prove it. His mind was trying to show him what he so obviously missed. He loved you, Calleigh. That's not going to change overnight."

"But how can I expect a second chance, Alexx? I hid something so incredibly important from him; how can I expect he'll give _us _a second chance?"

"You can't. You can't _expect _it. But you can hope. Have faith, sweetie. But don't let inaction keep you from something you want, and I suspect, something Eric ultimately wants. Calleigh, we all do irrational things when we're in a relationship. Fear is a powerful motivator. We all have regrets, but the question you have to ask yourself is this: Is Eric a regret you're willing to live with? Do you really want to be looking at this time forty years from now and wondering, what if?"


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Eric went home that night exhausted, completely drained, and most of his lack of energy was due to the sleepless night he'd had before. So when he did get to his condo, he wasn't hungry, he didn't take a shower, but the first and last thing he did was go into the bedroom and begin to get undress. It may only be 8:23PM, but he was going to sleep. He pulled his clothes off tiredly, barely having the energy for that motion, and stumbled over to the bed, kicking something across the floor into the nightstand. Eyes half-closed already, he reached down and picked up the object. The second he touched it Eric's tiredness disappeared instantly. The soft feel of the velvet, the length of the box, reminded him immediately of what he'd dropped in his rush to get out and over to Calleigh's last night.

Slowly, hesitantly, he opened the box and stared at the twinkling diamonds and sparkling emeralds that adorned the slender tennis bracelet. He stepped back to the bed and when the backs of his knees made contact, Eric sat down heavily. A bracelet, obviously bought before they broke up. Obviously a sign something was serious between them. God knew, Eric wasn't the commitment type before. This bracelet was a testament to feelings he'd had for her. Not one for easily stating what he was thinking or especially feeling, actions spoke louder than words in his estimation. And this bracelet was proof he'd yelled at the top of his lungs the feelings that had swamped him regarding Calleigh Duquesne.

Even with 90% of his memories missing as they related to their relationship, Eric knew he'd loved her with everything in him.

Eight emeralds, eight years—and a note in his writing. _And much more. _A pregnant statement, implying they not only had forever in front of them, but that the possibilities were limitless. Eric knew himself. He wouldn't have said something like that if he hadn't had some definite possibilities in mind. _Just how committed was he to Calleigh?_

Eric applied pressure to the top and the case closed with a pop. Instead of putting it back on the top shelf where it had fallen from, he found himself placing it much closer, in the top drawer of his nightstand. What possessed him to do such a thing, Eric didn't want to examine and so he ignored motives.

After stripping down to his boxers, he climbed into his king-sized bed and hit the bedside light, enveloping the room in quiet and peaceful darkness. Sleep came quickly that night, due to the stressful evening before and the long day, but whether they came because of unresolved issues or Calleigh's presence that Horatio insisted on, Eric found himself dreaming. Dreaming of snippets, moments in time, no real sense of a timeline. Even as he subconsciously knew he was dreaming, Eric didn't want to leave.

"_Okay, now what you want to do is make sure your stance is right. Legs shoulder-width apart, in line with your hips," Calleigh instructed, placing her hands on Eric's hips to correct and adjust. _

_They were outside, the Florida sun shining brightly, barely a cloud in the sky. He had to suck in a sharp breath at the soft feel of her hands on his bare skin where his shirt had ridden up and his muscles there tensed. Eric was holding one of Calleigh's Bushmaster AR-15 .223 caliber rifles, stock pulled hard to his shoulder so when he fired, recoil would be reduced. _

_A flush crept over Calleigh's cheeks when she noticed Eric's involuntary reaction. She tried to pretend it didn't affect her, pretend his nearness wasn't a bit distracting. Eric was a friend. That's all. "Come on, Eric, concentrate," she admonished. "You're the one who wanted to improve your firearms qualifications." _

The scene changed abruptly.

"_Oh, God, we shouldn't be doing this here," Calleigh whispered, frantically trying to extract herself from Eric's arms, and at the same time unable to resist arching her neck to give him better access. They were in a utility closet. Eric had pulled her in as she'd been passing through the halls on her way to AV. _

"_Maybe not," Eric murmured, his voice hushed by the fragrant skin of her neck, "But I really don't care. And, I suspect, if you dropped some of those inhibitions, you'd realize just how hot this is." Eric nibbled gently at the tendons, and he felt a shiver run through his girlfriend. _

_Calleigh's only answer was to grasp Eric's head and pull it closer as he tried to remove her top. _

_What the hell had gotten into him? Eric asked himself. He'd made love to her just that morning, five hours ago. Five _long _hours ago, a voice inside grumbled. When had their relationship branched into office sex? _

"_I'mmmmm," Calleigh moaned, "not inhibited…. Or did you forget last night?" _

_It took a second for Eric's addled brain to catch up and realize she was responding to his comment. Half a second later his cock came to complete attention at the reminder of the night before. Where the fuck had she learned that trick? he thought, heat rushing through his body. The heights of pleasure they'd gone to…Eric was still recovering. _

Before the scene could progress, the dream changed again and this time, not for the better.

_Calleigh threw some of her things into an overnight bag, trying not to look at Eric as he came into the bedroom. The condo was a disaster, clothing, knickknacks, and other assorted belongings strewn around, as if someone had been frantically going through them. _

"_What's going on, Calleigh?" Eric asked quietly, concerned, unsure of what was happening, but a part of him had an inkling. More than an inkling. It was a hard ball of fear and terror curled in his gut. _

_She still wouldn't look at him. "I can't do this anymore, Eric." _

"_Do what? Be with me?" He voiced the fear that had been with him since they started seeing each other. _

_A jerky nod was his response. _

"_Why?" He wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer—actually, he was damn sure he didn't want to know the answer—but he couldn't help but ask. Maybe there was something he could do…. _

_She shook her head. "We work together, Eric. This won't last and I can't do this again. Pretending rumors and whispers don't ruin my career. I've been there. I won't go back." _

_He was confused. What was she talking about? Everything was so perfect before today. What had changed? "Nothing's going to happen. No one at work knows and they won't unless we tell them. On our own time," he protested. _

_Calleigh looked at him for the first time and he saw the tears swimming in her eyes. There was more to the reason than just work, more than she was telling him. _

"We're_ out of time, Eric." She finished packing her bag. _

Up until now, Eric hadn't wanted to stop dreaming, but he didn't want to see her walk out. He didn't want to see the death of their relationship. Clawing himself out from the dream world, Eric woke up, heart pounding, a combination of relief, fear, anger, and grief beating at him, each vying for supremacy.

Grief won for the moment and tears pricked his eyes. Just a few short extra memories, but each contained a wealth of information. The first—obviously that was from when they first began the training sessions. Even then there had been an inkling of something more. The second dream…who knew at what point in their fledgling relationship had that scene happened, but considering Calleigh hadn't pushed him away angrily and stalked out, Eric thought their relationship was secure at that point, but still new enough that they couldn't get enough of each other. Finally, the last—Eric could have lived without remembering that particular memory and he was uncommonly grateful he had woken up before he saw her walk out of his home. As irrational as it sounded, he didn't think he could have taken being witness to that particular moment. The memories were fresh in his mind, as if they'd just happened, instead of a year ago, and Eric found himself conflicted: His heart wanted Calleigh back. His head argued and fought against forgiving her, reminding him she'd broken up with him, caused the heartache. And there was still so much anger inside. What was he to do?

Eric needed to talk to someone. Two people instantly came to mind and he decided to visit with his mother tomorrow after work and schedule an appointment with Dr. Andrews within the week.

Calleigh decided to take Alexx's advice, and for the most part, she gave Eric his breathing space. But she couldn't help checking in on him a couple of times that day, just to see he was all right. And of course, he caught her, but he didn't say anything. His lips would just tighten and he'd turn back to whatever he was working on. Mercifully, Horatio didn't force them to work another case that day even though two double homicides and a robbery had all of the investigators working furiously. Instead, Calleigh and Ryan took one of the crime scenes, while Eric and Natalia took the second homicide. Horatio, in a rare moment, decided to investigate the robbery with a floater from the nightshift pulled in specifically because the dayshift was swamped.

Calleigh went down to Autopsy that afternoon to confer with Alexx about where she'd found a piece of evidence on one of the victims, when she ran into Eric, who was heading the same way. The ride down the elevator was quiet, tense, and seemed to last forever, and she thought about anything but Eric to occupy her mind.

Eric barely spared her a glance and instead concentrated on the report in front of him, attempting to appear busy and disinterested when he was anything but. Finally the doors opened and he had to suppress a breath of relief as he walked slightly ahead.

Alexx was just finishing stitching a body when the duo walked in. A raised eyebrow was the only indication she knew something was up and both steadfastly ignored it. Calleigh waited patiently while Eric talked to their friend and instead examined the vial he had come down here for. He reached for the vial just as Calleigh did and for a brief moment, their fingers touched and electricity arced between them. Calleigh suppressed a gasp. Eric hissed, grabbed the vial, and bolted out of the bay without a glance toward either of them.

Alexx said nothing, but the look on her face spoke volumes. He wasn't as immune as Calleigh thought, she mused. Just give him time, baby. "So, what brings you down here?" she asked aloud.

The rest of the day passed for Eric relatively quickly. He grabbed a second to make an appointment with Dr. Andrews four days from then, as the doctor was booked until Monday. No more run-ins with Calleigh and he had plenty to keep him busy on account of the double homicide he'd picked up that morning. So it was with a sigh of relief he exited the Miami-Dade Police Department doors and walked to his car. It was almost seven-thirty, but his mother would still have dinner warmed for him.

When he arrived at his parents' home in Little Havana, Clorinda Delko was on the front porch, sweeping the floor of grit and leaves. "Hi, Mami," Eric greeted, clearing the steps and pressing a kiss to her weathered cheek.

"M'ijo, have you eaten dinner yet? There are some empanadas and rice and black beans on the stove. Help yourself," Clorinda said, setting aside the broom and following her only son into the house.

"Thanks, Ma," he replied, moving into the kitchen to do just that. After he'd helped himself to a plate of home-cooked Cuban food, he dug in at the dining room table.

Clorinda observed her boy silently. There was a weariness in his eyes and his frame that hadn't been there a week ago. Tension lined his shoulders and dark circles were faint, but visible to her mother's eyes. Something was wrong with her boy and it appeared he was ready to tell her. "Pavel, ven aqui," Clorinda yelled. If her son was there to talk to her, he would talk to both of his parents.

Eric had known coming to the house to talk with his mother would really mean talking with his father as well and that was all right with him. He could use his dad's opinion on the situation. He looked up as his father came into the dining room, nodded his hello, and quickly finished his meal. "I…need to talk to the both of you about something. Something I recently found out about," Eric started. The whole story came tumbling out, everything from the dreams he'd been having, when and how he and Calleigh became involved, to their breakup, the aftermath of the shooting and her cover-up, and their confrontation the other night.

To say his parents were shocked was an understatement. "I didn't even know you were seeing someone back then," Pavel said.

Clorinda averted her eyes, but Eric caught her lack of response to his father's statement. "What, Ma?"

His mother cleared her throat. "Well, you never brought anyone over, but I thought maybe something was going on."

"Excuse me?" he asked.

She fidgeted in her seat, obviously uncomfortable. "A few weeks before your shooting, you came over. It was a party for Isabella because she did so well at her school play," she started, referring to one of Eric's nieces.

"I don't remember coming over," he murmured, searching his memory.

"There's a lot you don't remember," Clorinda stated, unconsciously echoing Calleigh's softly spoken words from the other night. Eric had to force himself to keep from flinching. "While the girls and your father were outside, you came in. I was in the bedroom, cleaning up. You asked me about your father and I, how we knew we were meant for each other. We talked a bit and I got the impression you were dating someone special. Then you asked about Abuela's engagement ring. None of the girls had wanted it. I still had it. You changed the subject and that was it."

"Why didn't you tell me before?" he asked, a touch of anger tingeing his voice.

Pavel shot a warning glance at his son. Eric knew better than to disrespect his mother in such a way.

"Because you didn't mention it again. Something must've happened because for a couple of weeks before the shooting you were sad, clearly hurting. I wasn't going to touch on that subject, whatever it was, until you came to me. And then you got shot. A failed romance seemed such a trivial matter in the grand scheme of things, Eric. You were near death…" Clorinda's voice trailed off, and she shuddered in remembrance of those tortuous days, waiting for Eric to wake up, praying for a miracle, pleading with God that he wouldn't take their only son away like their Mari.

Eric worked through his anger at his mother for not telling him. In hindsight, she was right. It didn't matter, not when she had thought she was going to lose him like they lost Marisol. "Regardless of what you didn't tell me, the fact of the matter is that Calleigh didn't, not once until now."

"And you're angry with her, no?" Pavel asked. Eric nodded, but something in his eyes had Pavel adding, "But even with that anger, there is still something more. You feel love too."

Eric hesitated, not wanting his father to be right, but then he nodded miserably. "There's a part of me that's unaccountably pissed off, betrayed, and then there's another part of me that just wants _her." _

Pavel Delko was normally a quiet man, allowing his wife to voice her opinions, but his son was hurting and he wanted advice on what to do. "Do you love this woman?" he asked quietly, watching his son's face for the truth if he thought to lie.

Eric had to take a hard look at his feelings. He had so many emotions when he thought of Calleigh and they tended to get all jumbled up in his head, in his heart. He felt so conflicted when he thought of her. He should be angry, pissed off beyond belief, betrayed, and he was all of those things, but there was a large part of him that wanted to try again with Calleigh. "Yeah, I do," he admitted out loud. Regardless of everything that had been said, everything she'd done and failed to do, he still cared for her and it was hard to reconcile those feelings with the emotions of anger when he thought of that night. When he thought of all that she had stolen from them when she didn't tell him about their relationship.

"Then you've found your answer. Everything can be worked out if there is love," Pavel finished uncomfortably. He wasn't a man to speak of his emotions freely.

His wife picked up the conversation. "Do you think your father and I have had a wonderful life together free of arguments? Every relationship takes time and work to get through the rough times. As long as you love the person you're with, anything can be overcome." Clorinda did not think what Calleigh had done was right, not by any means, but she could understand her motivations. Eric had told her in the past about Calleigh's background and she knew what the young woman had overcome to reach this juncture in her life. Trust did not come easily for one such as she. Clorinda reached out and squeezed her son's hand. "Trust your heart, m'ijo. It will not lead you astray," she concluded.

Eric thought about his parents' comments over the next few days, but could not bring himself to make a decision. Instead, he tried to concentrate on the job, and to that end, he continued searching for a match in AFIS for the print he'd discovered the week before on the crumpled picture frame from the Miranda Waters murder. AFIS finally finished processing and no match was made. Ms. Waters' ex-boyfriend was nowhere to be found and his were the only prints not taken to either eliminate or identify him as a suspect. A BOLO was put out for Michael McAdams, a person of interest. Later that day, Eric saw Tripp hauling in a familiar face, cuffed hands behind his back, and sporting a nasty shiner on his right eye.

Tripp parked the man in the interview room with a uniform escort and walked over to Eric. "Look what the cat dragged in. Deltona PD picked up McAdams at a toll booth heading up I-95 toward Jacksonville and probably out of the state."

"Thanks. I'll get Calleigh and we'll talk with him."

Eric wasn't really looking forward to being in the same room with the woman for an extended period of time, but he had no choice. They'd both been primary on the scene and there was no helping it. Interviews usually involved two investigators. He pulled her away from DNA and Valera and they walked into Interview One. Eric closed the door behind him and took a seat next to Calleigh, being careful not to touch her. The last thing he needed was to be distracted. She read him his rights and when he didn't ask for an attorney right away, the interrogation began.

"So, Mr. McAdams, were you planning an extended vacation?" Calleigh asked, starting right in, making mention of the fact he'd been caught high-tailing it out of the area.

The man was fidgety, edgy, which in turn made Eric edgy.

"No, just wanted to get away," he said, purposely vague.

"Would that have anything to do with the fact your girlfriend was found murdered in her living room?" she asked sharply.

McAdams appeared jittery and in a show of supposed goodwill, Eric asked, "I'm going to the vending machine. Would you like a Coke?"

McAdams nodded his thanks and Eric left, glancing at the uniformed officer to tell him without words to keep an eye on the guy in case he tried something. He left and got back as soon as he could, two sodas in hand. McAdams popped the top and guzzled it down in a few short swallows. "Hey, let me throw that out for you," Eric said nicely. God, he loved his job. No search warrant needed for trash.

Calleigh had to smother a smile at Eric's pretend 'good cop' routine and continued. Four hours later had McAdams blubbering like a baby that he'd killed his girlfriend because they'd broken up just a few days before and she'd kicked him out of her house. "We didn't find any of your things there," she commented.

"That's because I snuck in a couple of days before. Miranda gave me a key when we moved in and I grabbed my stuff while she was at work," he sniffled. "I didn't mean to kill her, really. I was just so pissed off, I chucked the frame with our picture in it at her and it knocked her out cold. Or at least, I thought she was just unconscious. When I checked her body, she was dead. God, there was so much blood!"

Eric had to keep his face impassive as he listened to McAdams. When he'd said, "_grabbed my stuff while she was at work_" something had resonated inside and Eric realized he'd never seen anything of Calleigh's at his condo in the six months plus since the shooting and returning home. With the exception of the bracelet, which he hadn't even given her, there was no tangible proof she'd ever been in his home. And Eric knew, if he was involved with someone as deeply as he knew he had been with Calleigh, there would be something there of her: a brush, a scarf, perfume. _Something _to indicate her presence.

As quickly as he could, he processed McAdams and handed him over to the county jail. Anger was mounting and Eric wanted some semblance of privacy when he confronted Calleigh. "We need to talk," he muttered, pulling her through the halls, searching for a room that didn't have glass windows and walls. They went downstairs and blindly passed several co-workers who tried to engage one or both of them in conversation. But Eric wouldn't have it. He saw a room marked 'Storage' and twisted the knob, relieved to find it unlocked, and pulled himself and a protesting Calleigh inside, locking the door behind them. He fumbled with the light switch on the wall and finally flicked it on, bathing the large room in soft light.

"Eric, what the hell?" Calleigh demanded, rubbing the wrist where Eric had grabbed her.

For a moment, he paced around the space, weaving in and out of rows of chairs and the few tables inside. "Did you remove the rest of your things after we broke up when I was in the hospital?" he demanded.

Calleigh's angered face dropped and a blank look came over her features. "Why do you ask?"

"I remember that night. I had a dream about you leaving, citing the same bullshit about work and packing some of your things, but there was a lot in the condo. Much more than could be packed in one bag. And then something about what McAdams said clicked. From what I remember, we were practically living together. Of course you'd have a key," he asserted.

"I-I—" Calleigh stuttered.

"Don't lie," he said softly.

"I wasn't," she replied, equally as soft. "When you were still in recovery, I went in and collected the rest of my things, the remainder that didn't fit in the bag that night. I locked up and put the key in the potted plant beside the door." One more thing for Eric to hate her for.

"You completely excised yourself out of my life," he said angrily, taking a step towards her.

"You were in the hospital, Eric. No memory of me, of us, and the last thing you needed was to see your partner's thing littered over the condo and have to ask why," Calleigh defended, anger rushing to the forefront. God, she was so freaking tired of his accusations and she took an unconscious step towards him in retaliation.

"There you go again, making decisions for me, for us. Did it ever occur to you to let me decide what I did and didn't need?" he practically yelled, getting in her face.

Their eyes flashed angrily at each other and suddenly, in the next breath, Eric's lips were crushed against Calleigh's. A noise of outrage was quickly smothered by the press of his lips as his head angled closer. Breath heaving, he couldn't get enough air, but that didn't stop Eric from taking only the second kiss he'd tasted from Calleigh—the first for him being the nightclub.

Calleigh resisted at first, still angry with him, but soon she was responding ardently, unable to convince her wayward body to let go of his. Instead her hands grasped hungrily at his back, roaming the broad shoulders and down his waist to the swell of his ass. Her lips fused to his and her tongue darted inside intently, wanting to taste every inch of him. The last time they'd kissed, Eric had taken over and she wanted her turn. She hadn't truly been with him since before the shooting and her hunger was raging.

Eric found himself out of control, unable to stop, unwilling to stop, and his hands caressed what they could reach—breasts tipped with hard points were rolled and tugged before moving on to the flat plane of her belly and resting on her hips, squeezing the curved protrusions and arching her pelvis into his own, grinding their lower bodies together so that the pad of her soft pussy met the hard erection trying to stroke inside her from behind several layers of clothing.

Calleigh knew she should stop this madness, but she couldn't. Not when there wasn't anything between them now. Jake was gone. Eric knew the truth. She wanted him. It was that simple. And apparently, regardless of his conflicted feelings, he wanted her.

Eric rotated his hips urgently and bucked into her center. Only a few minutes in and he was ready to blow like a fifteen-year-old with his first girl. Calleigh's mouth wrenched away from his in an uninhibited cry, quickly silenced by the press of her head to his chest.

The sound of something or more accurately, someone, jingling the doorknob was like an arctic blast of water across their passion and Calleigh frantically pushed Eric away, panting as quietly as she could. Both of them waited with baited breath, praying the person was gone for good. A few more minutes of silence and Calleigh breathed a silent sigh of relief, straightening her clothing. Eric did the same, and neither of them looked at each other.

"Let's pretend this didn't happen," he said awkwardly, thinking of what could happen if they had gotten caught. Probably a suspension for both of them.

A flash of something glimmered in her eyes, quickly there and gone, and was replaced by a hard look. "Fine," she said and, after a beat, unlocked the door, leaving the way they'd entered.

Eric breathed a harsh sigh of relief mixed with intense frustration and anger. What the hell had they been thinking? What had he been thinking? He was supposed to be pissed at her, wasn't he?

Calleigh brushed at the tears that seemed determined to come despite her best intentions as she walked hurriedly back to the main level and through the front doors of the department. She needed a fresh breath of air, to not be in the same space as Eric Delko. She'd known Eric could be a bit of a bear at times and insensitive, but she'd never known him to be so callous. Her body still burned and sang from his touch and she was slightly ashamed to find she wanted more. What a glutton for punishment she was! When was she going to learn? The man wanted nothing to do with her. _And that's why he had his hands all over you, _a voice inside snidely remarked. _Yeah, right. _

This push and pull, back and forth with him was starting to wear on her nerves. She was trying to do as Alexx suggested and let him work things out on his own, but it was hard. Conflicting feelings swamped her. She wanted him back, but the way he'd been treating her lately made a part of her second-guess her decision. Was this really what she wanted? Waiting on tenterhooks for Eric to make a decision one way or another? At the same time, her guilty conscience scolded her. He had every right to be acting this way and she felt obligated to allow him his space. What right did she have to take his choices away? She'd hurt him enough already. He deserved whatever time he needed. And if he decided he didn't want her, well then, she would move on. Somehow. Calleigh's heart clenched in fear at the bleak thought, but her mind strengthened her defenses. Yes, she thought resolutely, if Eric decided against jump-starting their relationship, she _would _move on with her life. No matter how much it broke her heart.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Here it is. Long awaited and in my opinion, an even better session with Dr. Andrews. Chapter 12 will take at least a week for me to write, have Jen beta, and post. Assuming I get time between work and other obligations. And I'm warning you all right now: If you're a minor, don't read Chapter 12 (or will it be 13? Hmm....) **

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Eric's body raged the rest of the day despite his best intentions. Even with no more run-ins with Calleigh, he remained alert, sensitive to the slightest movement outside the lab. He'd look up searching for that distinctive blonde hair and a part of him was particularly disappointed when he saw someone else. So by the time 5:30PM came around, he was very relieved that he would be able to leave a few minutes early to make his appointment with Dr. Andrews.

When he had started therapy, the department psychologist had noticed his hesitance to open up to someone he would see during the normal course of his duties. Someone his co-workers could possibly see, either professionally or personally. And so Dr. Madera had recommended Dr. Andrews, whose practice was a quick five-minute drive from the main offices of the police department. Eric couldn't be happier the office was so close to his job. He didn't think he could have tolerated the usual Miami traffic at rush hour.

As a result, he pulled into the underground parking lot quickly and took the elevator up to the main level. Dr. Andrews' office was situated on the first level of the three-story building, in the middle of the hall. The building was a converted mansion built in the 1910s and boasted a spiral staircase in the grand entrance. The elevators, a retrofit to the old place, were discretely positioned down the hall. Eric almost always got turned around when he came here. All the doors looked the same and that could be said for the halls as well.

Dr. Andrews patiently waited for Eric's arrival, examining reports, and occasionally pushing up his glasses, which drooped down his patrician nose. He was curious as to the reason for this visit. Eric wasn't one for making spontaneous appointments, but since his last impromptu session, Dr. Andrews was interested to find out what had happened. Calleigh appeared to be a good influence on his young patient. Something, he suspected, Eric needed desperately. He was intimately familiar with Eric's past, and in particular, his sister's death the year and a half before. He hadn't taken it well, as Dr. Madera had told him in confidence. Part of any good psychologist's practice was to research a patient's history and Dr. Madera had told him as much as he could and provided copies of his notes from the few sessions he had had with the CSI.

The man was exceptionally punctual with limited instances when he'd been late and now was no different. _Speak of the devil_, he thought as a light knock preceded Eric's entry into his office. He had to suppress a smile at the wayward thought. Eric sat down, and Dr. Andrews, an observer of those subtle physical and emotional clues people did not realize they verbalized without speech, noted the tension to his mouth and forehead, the hunched over and protective curve of his shoulders, signifying a defensive posture. Something was definitely bothering his patient. Hopefully, Eric Delko would be in a sharing mood today and not make him have to pry it out of the man. Sometimes, getting that man to talk was like pulling teeth, painful and time-consuming.

"So, what brings you here today, Eric?" Dr. Andrews asked, noting the nervous tick in his temple.

"I wanted to talk to you about Calleigh. How could she have done that? She didn't tell me for over six months!" Eric said angrily, cryptically.

Dr. Andrews had a feeling he'd stepped into a conversation Eric had been having with himself for a while now. Before he replied, he buzzed Carla and spoke quietly into the intercom, "Hold all of my calls. Cancel my seven-thirty." His always-efficient receptionist complied and he turned his attention back to his patient. "Eric, please start from the beginning, in a linear progression, that way I can get the full picture and maybe help you work out whatever the problem is."

Eric's lips twisted before he continued, "The beginning. The beginning would be where Calleigh failed to mention to me over the last six-plus months that we'd been dating each other seriously before my shooting."

Dr. Andrews had to fight to keep his complete and utter shock from showing. Of all the things this session could have been about regarding Calleigh Duquesne, _that _had never crossed his mind. He cleared his throat and motioned for his client to continue.

"So I've been having these dreams, which we talked about in the last session. I guess I better start after that. I went to a club on South Beach. I was depressed, wanting what I couldn't have, what I shouldn't have and went to a club to forget my troubles and just have a good time. I hadn't done that in forever, since probably before the shooting. I wanted to drink a little, dance a little, and if I hooked up with a girl…maybe that was for the best. Something to take my mind off Calleigh. But that didn't happen. We ran into each other…"

Eric's voice trailed off and a fire engine red blush crept over his features, visible even through his olive-toned skin. Dr. Andrews had an inkling where this conversation was about to lead.

"We danced, and I swear, it just happened. Calleigh is with Jake. Or maybe she's not now," he murmured, scratching the back of his neck. "Regardless, I'm not one for horning in on a guy's girl, even if I want her, even if I think she'd be better off with someone else. But it just happened. One moment we were dancing and then we were kissing and it was incredible. Everything I'd ever imagined kissing Calleigh would be like." His voice softened and got husky, a hint of passion darkening his gaze before his surroundings shook him out of it.

"Anyway, she left a few minutes later to probably join Jake and I left the club. Went home and as I was getting ready for the next morning, I found a jewelry box. Inside, there was a diamond bracelet and a note, in _my _handwriting alluding to a relationship with Calleigh. I-I had these visions, flashbacks…"

Dr. Andrews could see his patient was lost in his own memories by the glazed look in his eyes. He indulged Eric for a few seconds, but his own desire to hear the rest of the story had him prodding, "Go on."

"One I knew was a memory. I bought her a one-touch espresso machine with all the bells and whistles about a year and a half ago." He nodded in confirmation.

Dr. Andrews suppressed the instinct to raise an eyebrow. That was one hell of a gift for a friend, but he didn't want to put his patient on the defensive too soon.

"The second was more…I was in a bed and her scent was on the pillows." His voice had gotten low, but it was still audible. "In the last, we were rolling around in some leaves, maybe at a park, and Calleigh said she loved me." A hard expression came over his face.

"When I came out of it, something about the visions rang true. I had to talk to her. I drove over to her place at two-thirty in the morning and we talked. God, I was so confused, not sure if I was going crazy, out of my mind, and I confided in her about the dreams. She told me they were real. She said we were in a relationship before the shooting, but that she broke up with me. She didn't tell me because, as she put it, it was never the right time. When is the right time? When I'm old and gray? I was so…angry, pissed off. I felt betrayed, hurt. She was my friend. She'd taken care of me over the last several months and she'd been lying the whole time," Eric raged, all of his emotions having found an outlet that wouldn't flinch away, or look at him with hurt in her eyes, make him feel guilty for his feelings.

"So these dreams have been your mind's way of telling you the truth," Dr. Andrews surmised. He nodded. "What was Calleigh's reason for breaking off the relationship in the first place?" he asked, changing the subject slightly.

"She said something about 'everything was perfect between us.' She was worried about how the relationship would affect our careers. I thought it was more because she was scared. I mean, how can you have a lasting relationship with a guy who regularly played the field?" he said self-deprecatingly.

At this, Dr. Andrews interrupted. He was concerned at Eric's lack of self-worth. "Eric, do you think that's how you'd behave if you were in a serious relationship now?"

He was quiet for a long minute. "No," he said finally, "But with my past, I can see how she would think that." Eric hadn't been 'relationship material' before the shooting. If there was one good thing to come out of having bits of lead embedded in his temple, it was that he had a newfound appreciation of life and what it had to offer. If anything, he'd become more deliberate in his actions and looked toward the future instead of lingering in the present, living in the moment.

Dr. Andrews reviewed his notes. "You said she told you 'everything was perfect between us.' Doesn't that imply she was worried about the relationship not working out?"

Eric conceded the point by nodding.

"I don't know Ms. Duquesne's background, but I suspect by that isolated comment she has some trust issues," Dr. Andrews added cautiously. He hated to make generalizations about people he'd never met, but in this case, Eric needed to see another side to the story and recognize the young woman could have some valid concerns to overcome.

"Yeah, she's been…hurt. Her father's an alcoholic. I've never met her mother, but Calleigh doesn't talk about her," Eric said uncomfortably. He didn't like talking about people behind their backs, especially Calleigh. Even now, he wanted to protect her.

"She said that when I got out it wasn't the right time," he said, anger flashing in his eyes, anger at her and anger at himself for still protecting her, even after everything.

"She probably didn't want to disrupt your recovery, Eric. Sometimes surprises aren't good for one's constitution, especially when that person's recovering from a traumatic brain injury," Dr. Andrews played devil's advocate. The poor woman needed someone in her corner, and even though he was supposed to remain objective at all times, he found himself trying to make Eric see the motivations behind the deception. It was obvious to him that Eric still cared for the woman. Why else would he be so angry?

"Well, it doesn't end there. She broke up with me, didn't tell me about us when I was in the hospital or after, and within weeks she's dating Jake," Eric said incredulously.

Dr. Andrews backtracked, "Who's Jake?"

"Jake Berkley, he's another detective in the department," Eric said resentfully. "He's Calleigh's ex from the Academy."

_Ah, so that explains the animosity, _Dr. Andrews mused internally. No one liked an ex sticking around.

"She said she still loved me, after everything she'd revealed. _She loved me_. What a joke. How could she? How dare she?" Eric shook his head, unable to believe those thoughts voiced in that moment. Unable to reconcile his memories of them so happy together with her betrayal. "While we were fighting, Jake walked in. I don't know how much he heard, but he must have heard something from the ticked off look on his face. I didn't care. All I could see was red and I needed to get out of there. I left her there with him. I took off and went home."

A hint of worry must have shone through his tone because Dr. Andrews remarked, "Even as you were feeling angry and betrayed, you found yourself concerned for her welfare, did you not? Mr. Berkley had just overheard at least some of your conversation and was obviously going to confront Ms. Duquesne about it."

Eric nodded. "As much as I don't like to admit it, I was concerned. I _still _find myself concerned for her. Even after everything that's happened. Everything I've found out. Everything she's held back from me. I'm still concerned about her. I still love her," he confessed.

Dr. Andrews suspected it wasn't the first time he'd admitted to his romantic feelings regarding his partner since the harsh discovery. Even so, he had to suppress the urge to cheer at the admission. "And you find that bothersome," he stated.

Eric confirmed his thoughts. "How could I not? I'm so confused. A part of me wants to hate her. A part of me is angry, a large part, pissed off, betrayed, hurt, incredibly hurt. So freakin' angry she never told me. Angry she broke us up in the first place. Angry she didn't fight for us," he finished in a rush, tears pricking his eyes for the first time. _Aren't I worth fighting for? _

His heart went out to his patient, but Dr. Andrews had to remain objective, or at least, that's what he told himself. The hurt was visible on his face and the anger too. But there was one piece of the puzzle he didn't think even Eric had figured out yet. Not even subconsciously. "Eric," he said quietly, softly. "What would you say if I told you I thought a significant part of your anger is turned inward?"

His tear-streaked face turned toward his doctor, a look of confusion in his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I think a large part of your anger stems from guilt aimed at yourself," he continued slowly and deliberately.

"What do I have to feel guilty about?" Eric scoffed.

"I think a part of you blames yourself and is angered at your own mind for betraying you in the first place. Think about it for a moment. After the shooting, your mind blocked out many events, your sister's death being a very prominent memory. Didn't you feel guilty and angry with yourself for not remembering that moment? How could you have forgotten something so incredibly important? Your sister died and you didn't remember it," he said intensely, getting into his patient's mind, voicing words Eric had never even subconsciously thought. "The same could be said for your relationship with Calleigh. You were in love. Deeply so, I suspect. If you _really _loved her, wouldn't you, shouldn't you have remembered it? How could you forget something so integral?"

Eric's face reflected shock and dismay, but to a more significant degree, denial. He didn't want to believe Dr. Andrews' assertions. He didn't want to believe that at least some of the anger he'd been taking out on Calleigh was really directed at himself. Because that would mean he'd treated her deplorably. Memories of the last two weeks poured into his consciousness and Eric's mind replayed each look of pain, hurt, and sadness Calleigh had graced him with, her eyes filled with emotions unspoken.

Eric's heart began to pound and he felt slightly nauseated thinking about the hell he'd put her through. Granted, she did deserve his anger, but what he'd aimed at her for the last few weeks went beyond what was acceptable. It almost…verged on abusive. He owed her an apology like none he'd ever given.

Dr. Andrews watched Eric's countenance and saw the gradual acceptance of his words. He had to suppress a sigh of relief. _Now we're getting somewhere_, he thought.

"What now, then?" Eric asked. Since much of his anger was acknowledged as being directed at himself, a large part of it melted away. He'd felt so justified and smugly _right _in his assertions about Calleigh and her deception; now that he'd recognized the truth of his emotions, it left him feeling bereft. Lost. Adrift. Confused as to what the next step was.

"What do you want, Eric?" Dr. Andrews turned the question back on his patient. He wanted Eric to say the words. He knew what he wanted. The question was: would he go after it?

Eric was silent, thinking about the options left to him. Even with everything that had happened, he still wanted Calleigh, but she'd betrayed their trust. Respect and trust were a significant part of a relationship. Respect for yourself and your partner. Trust was integral. A relationship built on trust was lasting and loving. To start, or restart, one with distrust permeating the many facets of a relationship was pointless. Distrust and suspicion were the hallmarks of broken marriages and other unions. Nothing was more important than those two ideals. If you didn't have respect and trust, then what did you have? "I want Calleigh back, but I don't know if I can trust her again," he said finally, voicing his concerns.

Dr. Andrews took off his glasses and looked his client in the eye. "I know you had respect for Calleigh. Both personally and professionally. That was apparent from the first. Trust can be rebuilt. You trust her professionally, but since learning of your relationship and how she hid it, she's lost your trust personally. People rebuild trust in their relationships all the time. I have many clients who are struggling to rebuild their marriages when infidelity, when dishonesty, has rent them apart. It's not easy. It's a long and hard road, but the question you have to ask yourself is whether or not you want to try. Is Calleigh worth the struggle to rebuild the trust between you?"

Eric ruminated on Dr. Andrews' words. What little he remembered of their relationship before the shooting was steeped in warmth and love. He knew to his bones they'd been happy, secure in themselves and each other. It was the best relationship of his life. He was sure of it. Did he want her back? Yes. Was he willing to do whatever it took to do that? That was the $64,000 question. Memories of that brief moment in time assaulted his senses and Eric recalled the many moments over the years when she'd been there for him or vice versa.

"Yes, she is. She's worth anything," he said softly and Dr. Andrews had to fight not to pump his fist in the air. Instead, the good doctor smiled sedately.

"Then you know what to do," Dr. Andrews finished.

Eric thanked Dr. Andrews for his time and insight and quickly left. Now that he'd reached a decision regarding Calleigh, he was anxious to speak with her. As much as he cared about her, as much as he wanted to be with her, he was apprehensive about how she would respond to his advances. He'd treated her deplorably over the last two weeks, and he couldn't be sure if she still wanted him. Granted, they'd had a scorching encounter in the storage room, the memory of which still brought a flush to his cheeks, but physical attraction was only one component to a relationship. And even if she wanted to begin anew, he still wasn't sure if he could trust her again. Eric's thoughts circled back. But the point was, he wanted to try. He was ready to attempt to reconnect with Calleigh on that level. Confidence in his feelings made Eric stride more resolutely to his car, ready to tell Calleigh everything. But one nagging question remained. Would she still want him?


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: I know it's been a very long time since I last updated. Between going to FL for vacay, a funeral for a friend, another funeral for another friend (well, her baby's funeral), and getting sick with the flu...not to mention the severe writer's block I had. I wrote, scrapped, and rewrote this chapter about five times before I even sent it to my wonderful beta, Jen. Thanks hon. You will never know how much I appreciated it. In any event, I hope you enjoy it, please read and review, and Chapter 13 will be out very, very soon. And after that, just one epilogue. And that will be the end of this labor of love. On with the show!

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Calleigh poured herself a glass of Sauvignon Blanc when she arrived home and sat down on her sofa in the living room. The day had been draining for her, mentally and physically, and most of her tension resulted from a certain Latino. She needed to relax desperately, or at least, attempt to. Rolling her head around to help release the tension in her neck, Calleigh tilted her neck back and let her head fall gently to rest. A sigh expelled from her lips. The day had been nerve-wracking. Hell, the last two weeks had been nerve-wracking. Between the doubles and Eric's anger, Calleigh felt like she was strung tight as a bow, ready to snap.

This tension between them had to release or something was going to happen. One way or another she needed to know where they stood. If he wanted nothing to do with her, then she would have to move on and try to salvage their friendship. Although, she thought wryly, whoever had originally come up with the idea of being 'just friends' with an ex was an idiot and obviously had never tried it before. Being 'just friends' with someone you'd shared so much history with, someone who you'd loved, someone you'd made love to, had inside your body, was damn hard. Usually, only time and distance could help someone gain perspective and take that step towards friendship. And as much as she cared about Eric, Calleigh didn't think she could be just his friend. She wasn't sure if she was strong enough.

A light knock sounded tentatively at her door and Calleigh groaned internally. Who could that be? She really wasn't up for company right now and she wasn't expecting anyone. A brief moment to close her eyes and gain some strength into limp limbs and then she was on her feet walking to the front door. A peek through the security view showed a fidgety Eric. Calleigh's heart jumped into her throat. What was he doing here? She wasn't sure if she could take another fight. They were starting to wear her down emotionally.

She opened the door. "Hey, can I come in? I need to talk to you," he asked quietly. Calleigh nodded and stepped aside to let him in.

Eric moved to the sofa, the same sofa where they'd had the mother of all arguments two weeks prior, and sat down. Calleigh joined him, stiffly sitting on the edge of the cushion, tension coiled in her body at the sight of that same tension reflected in Eric's posture, arms tightly crossed defensively over her chest. He didn't speak for a few moments and the seconds seemed to stretch out between them in the silence. Finally, Calleigh was about to break the silence when Eric spoke.

"I went to see Dr. Andrews this evening, right after work," he began.

Calleigh's brow furrowed. What did that have to do with her?

"I talked to him about our relationship, or lack thereof," Eric's lips twisted sardonically. "I told him what happened between us, how you ended it, and then didn't tell me about us after I recovered. I talked about the fight two weeks ago, the confrontation, everything," Eric said, struggling to keep his voice even and not let the anger get the best of him, but it was a losing battle. Thinking about those moments two weeks ago, the confrontations since, the yelling, the charged emotions, it all brought back the intense anger and he lost track of the purpose of coming there. "Damn it, Calleigh, _why_ didn't you tell me? Why did you let us go? Why didn't you fight, for me? For us?" His voice rose with each word incrementally, until he was almost yelling and he didn't realize it.

And just like that, Calleigh's defensive back was up. "We've gone over this. I don't know how many times I can say the same thing over! I made a mistake, Eric, you know, that little thing where you fuck up your life without meaning to? It's a common trait among humans," she said sarcastically, her anger, ever present with Eric around, rising to the fore.

"But you _lied _to me, Calleigh. By omission, yes. But a lie, nonetheless. And then you decided to let it be and moved on with Jake!" he yelled, motioning wildly, getting up from his seated position, unable to be that close to her. He paced in the living room, his legs jerkily eating up the floor in the small space.

"We all make mistakes. And damn it, I know I screwed up. I know I lost your trust, but you lost mine too. At least to a certain extent. You—" she fired back, standing up as well. She was never one to sit while having a fight. It gave the other person too much of an advantage.

"Took all the control. You made all the decisions, Calleigh. For yourself. And for me. And you're damn right you lost my trust—" he interrupted, remembering how helpless, out of control he'd felt when he first learned of her deception.

Calleigh talked over his last comment. "You lost mine, too, Eric. Let's not forget that. The last two weeks I've been trying to talk to you, just _talk, _but you won't even give me the time of day! You've been mean, and sarcastic, and hurtful," she said loudly, voice breaking, remembering his biting comments and harsh looks. Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them back successfully. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

It was a side of Eric she'd never imagined she'd see. And she never wanted to see it again. She didn't need this. She really didn't need yet another fight with him. It was too damn hard and draining to sling the mud and pretend it didn't sting when the cold, wet mass made harsh contact with her skin, with her heart.

Like a splash of cold water, Calleigh's words, the ache reverberating through her voice, broke through the red haze of anger and hurt, the pain that had been driving, fueling his words. "I didn't come here to fight," he said tiredly, but tension still laced in his tone, and he dragged his hands down over his face, rubbing his tired and burning eyes. "I came here to apologize. I came here to tell you something."

Calleigh's bruised and beaten heart was skeptical, which is why she answered with a scornful, "Apologize for what, Oh-Most-Perfect-One? What could you _possibly _have to apologize for?" Sarcasm dripped from every word that poured out of her mouth.

In a split second, his countenance went from tired and overwrought to angered and defensive. "I love you!" he yelled, the words exploding out of his mouth in frustration. "I fucking came here to apologize, tell I want you back, and that I love you! There, are you satisfied?" God, the woman was driving him fucking crazy. Only Calleigh. Only Calleigh could get him this worked up. She was the only woman in the world that could have him fighting to figure out up from down, heaven from hell. She turned everything inside out and upside down on its ear.

Calleigh's world tilted on its axis at Eric's impromptu confession. Her senses perked and sharpened suddenly at the brittle words, not hearing the tone of the monologue, but listening to the connotation and the underlying tremble that reverberated faintly in his cadence. Her hearing sharpened, sensitive to the slightest whisper of sound. Her vision crystallized, focusing in on his mouth, watching the plump upper and lower lips, his tongue form around the syllables. And her skin prickled with goose bumps the instant the words passed his lips, sensitized to his every motion.

Her anger drained slowly away, but it left only the most absurd emotions behind: hope, faith, love. Did she just hear…? Her brain screamed at her not to wish, not to dream, not to hope. But her heart beat that organ into submission and soaked in his words.

"I'm sorry, Calleigh. For behaving like an ass for the last two weeks. Some of it you deserved, a lot of it you didn't. Dr. Andrews helped me realize that the rage I've been focusing on you since you told me about us was not entirely all directed at you. I didn't realize it, but I've felt guilty that I didn't remember us in the first place. I've been taking my anger and guilt at myself and displacing it onto you. If I really cared about you—loved you—" Here Eric's voice stuttered at the admission. Deliberately articulating his feelings was different from saying the words in the heat of the moment. "Then I should have remembered what we had. I want to try to rekindle this thing between us, Calleigh. I want you," During this little speech, he'd moved progressively closer to her, but still tentative, afraid to reach out. Wondering if it was too late. Hoping she'd still want him like he needed her.

Calleigh was silent for a long moment, just staring at Eric, voice locked tight behind the massive knot lodged in her throat, tears misting her eyes. He still wanted her? He wanted to try again. Rebuild what they'd had. It was inconceivable that he would want what she'd been aching for since she broke up with him over six months ago. She'd had so many regrets since that moment and it seemed too good to be true that he would want the same thing. Was she dreaming? Maybe she was dreaming. Yeah, that's right. She'd fallen asleep on the couch and this was all a dream.

If this wasn't a dream, if he was telling the truth, as his soft, serious tone suggested, did she want to risk it? Even after all the fighting, all the trust lost on both sides, could she risk her heart again, knowing the hell in store for them, for her, if it didn't work out? She thought about the way they were, how incredibly happy they were before she stupidly let fear rule her decisions, but this time, she'd let her heart, instead of her head, make her decision.

Eric began to get anxious at her lack of response and laughed nervously. "Calleigh?" he questioned.

His questioning tone broke her reverie. "I'm dreaming, aren't I?" she said softly, voice finally reaching her mouth to push out the words. She looked up at him, eyes luminous with tears, afraid to hope, afraid to dream, afraid that all her wishes would be crushed like so much ash.

Eric's lips lifted into a small smile. "No, baby, you're not dreaming."

"I still want you. God, Eric, how could you think otherwise?" she said, laughing, a little in relief and disbelief, still a little convinced this was all a dream. Her hand covered her laugh, suppressing the small sound, almost afraid that with the vocalization, the dream would dissolve and she'd go back to being alone again.

Eric reached out, grasped her hands gently and squeezed, cautious to press against boundaries. Just because they'd agreed to try again didn't mean she would want his attentions right away. Even so, he needed the touch. He needed a physical affirmation of their new intention.

Calleigh wasn't satisfied with that. She let go of his hands and reached for him, pulling him into her arms for a much-needed hug. God, she didn't want to let him go. It felt like home, comfortable, like chocolate chip cookies baking in the oven, the moment like a balm to her frayed nerves, quieting the fears in her heart. Tears finally overflowed, released from their prison, slipping silently down her cheeks. For a few long moments Calleigh just held Eric, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck, sniffling a bit. Their previous encounters had been about passion, repressed desire, and desperation. This was about comfort, new beginnings, and a bit of relief.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I let my fear get in the way of us. I let that fear dictate my actions and because of me over six months were lost," she apologized, murmuring the soft words into his neck.

Eric slowly shook his head back and forth, slowly rocking her body against his, lulling and comforting, providing and receiving the comfort it was so obvious they both needed. "That's in the past now. We're going to try to rebuild what we had. I won't say it will be easy. I won't even say it'll work, but at least we'll try. I want that, Calleigh. I want what I feel sometimes when I think about that time or when I get flashbacks to those months." Even these last two weeks, maybe especially these last two weeks, he'd continued to have dreams about them. Some felt like true memories, others felt like déjà vu which led him to believe they could be memories, and other dreams had just felt like wishful thinking, his subconscious making his dreams and desires, however deeply buried during the day, known in the inky darkness of night.

"So where do we go from here?" she asked tentatively, pulling back to look into his eyes, unconsciously playing with the collar of his shirt.

"Rebuilding the trust between us personally is going to take time. On both of our sides. The way I've treated you for the last few weeks has probably had an impact on your feelings towards me," he replied softly, knowing he'd allowed his overwrought emotions to play havoc with Calleigh's heart, albeit unintentionally.

Calleigh's mind reeled, trying to digest what Eric was telling her. He wanted her back, but he needed to rebuild their trust personally. He didn't trust her personally. And he'd definitely taken several steps back in their relationship with her trust of him. He'd treated her like crap for the last two weeks. There had definitely been some trust lost on her side as well. "You really hurt me, Eric. I know what I did wasn't right, not by a long shot, but the last two weeks…it's a side of you I've never seen before. And quite frankly, it's not one I care to ever see again. You were biting, sarcastic, hurtful, down-right mean. It actually hurt to be around you, the rage and anger affecting our relationship at work," Calleigh said softly, achingly, vulnerability soaking her words, infusing them with her anguish.

"All I can say is that I'm sorry for my behavior. You didn't deserve a lot of it. My anger and pain at feeling betrayed doesn't justify the deplorable way I treated you, Calleigh, but I really want to try this again between us. I know I still have problems to deal with. We'll have to take this slowly, relearn each other. For you, it'll probably be harder. There's so much about us I don't remember that you do. We'll just take it one day at a time," he said.

Calleigh nodded in agreement. Trust would need to be rebuilt on both of their sides. Even so, going slowly would be hard. She had more memories, intensely bittersweet, of their time together before the shooting. She knew so much about Eric personally while he only had snippets of their relationship tumbling in his mind. Part of her wanted to just jump right in with both feet without looking, but she would go slowly for Eric's sake. No matter how much her heart urged her otherwise.

In the spirit of taking things slow, Calleigh asked, "Would you like to stay over for a bit and watch a movie with me? I'll cook dinner. No pressure." She held her breath awaiting his response.

Eric hesitated for a split second before a soft smile curved his lips. "I'd like that." And thus, the first olive branch of trust was extended.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: THIS CHAPTER IS IN NO WAY, SHAPE OR FORM FOR THE KIDDIES!!!! Seriously, if you're under 18, run away. And I am not responsible for the corruption of your morals. Go blame your parents. FYI, this is for my readers, who have been with me through thick and (lately) thin. Here you go, what we wish we could see on the series, hehe... As always, please R&R.

* * *

"So, where are you taking me?" Calleigh asked for what seemed like the hundredth time that week. Eric had been uncommonly secretive in regards to their plans for tonight. All week, he'd been giving her speculative looks when he thought she wasn't looking, but of course she was and she'd catch him. He'd quickly glance away, a light flush darkening his already bronze skin. As a result of his closed-lipped responses, she'd had to gamble on how to dress, what shoes to wear and she'd settled on an oldie but a goodie: the classic black dress. With rhinestone-encrusted black satin shoes with two and a half inch heels, the dress complemented her figure and had made Eric give her a second and then a third glance when he had picked her up twenty minutes before. The dress was made of a slinky, curve-hugging material that skimmed her body in all the right places and barely allowed for proper unmentionables. It had taken Calleigh an hour of going through her lingerie drawer before finding a set of lace-trim satin set to wear under the revealing dress. There was no way she could have worn anything more elaborate; she hated bra and panty lines and preferred a sleek look.

"You'll see," he said mysteriously, a small smile playing on his face. The rest of the drive passed in a companionable silence. Eric's Acura TL drove like a dream and Calleigh found herself lulled into an almost trance-like state, comfortable and warm, completely at ease with her date. So it was no surprise that her left hand found its way to the center console where Eric was shifting with his right. Every so often, his hand brushed hers and a shiver went through her body subtly, undetectable by an outsider, but definitely felt by her.

Eric, on the other hand, lost a bit of his concentration every time her fingers slide across his hand, brushing so lightly, but incredibly tantalizing, nonetheless. He couldn't take the unconscious teasing and so when he wasn't preoccupied by up or downshifting, Eric grasped Calleigh's hand and rubbed his thumb back and forth, back and forth, in an unconsciously mesmerizing motion.

She had to suppress a gasp at the electric feel of his warmth radiating from such a small point of contact. It was incredible the chemistry jumping between them tonight. The sexual tension was thick and it was only the early hours of night.

They'd been dating for the last three months and had gone on numerous dates, been together more than they'd been apart, but they had not made love yet. They'd had some incredibly hot and heavy petting sessions in her living room and in his kitchen, but they had not yet crossed that bridge and taken the next step into their relationship.

They had decided to rebuild the trust between them before they moved further, complicating any already complicated situation. It had been slow-going, Calleigh wasn't going to lie. It had taken them a couple of weeks to let down some of their guards, even after they started dating again. Hurt and anger had existed on both sides and it was not going to be easy to get over. They had had several long conversations and Eric had even once invited Calleigh to a session with Dr. Andrews.

She wasn't one for spilling her feelings to strangers, but Eric's earnest expression had convinced her. If this man could help her friend, her lover, get back on track after an incredibly devastating event then maybe he could help them overcome their obstacles. One of the first things Dr. Andrews had cautioned was not to let sex get in the way of rebuilding their relationship. In his estimation, communication, verbal communication, was more important and critical to rebuilding the foundation of their relationship than going at each other just because they were horny. But damn, that had been difficult…

Something about tonight, though…from the second Calleigh had opened the door to a casually dressed Eric, black dress shirt untucked and curved deliciously over a pair of worn and well-loved pair of jeans, she hadn't been able to take her eyes off him. His eyes had also lingered hotly and for one tense moment, she had believed they wouldn't even make it out the door.

But he had blinked profusely, as if trying to clear his head, and instead they had headed as planned to the restaurant. A restaurant Eric still had not told her the name of. Just then, Calleigh noticed their surroundings, taking in the familiar streets of South Miami. Eric slowed and then pulled up to the valet station of a very familiar restaurant. The red glow of the sign out front had Calleigh's eyes fixated as the valet opened her door.

"Welcome to Shooters, Ma'am," the young valet said as he offered her his arm and assisted her out of the car. Calleigh's throat constricted when Eric came around to join her after handing off the keys. Did he know? Did he remember?

"Ready?" he asked, reaching for her arm to lead her into the restaurant. Calleigh had no voice with which to reply and so instead she nodded, a lock of blonde hair loosening from her straightened mass to curve lovingly around the line of her jaw. Eric raised a hand and gently tucked the stray strands behind her ear, eyes seemingly captivated by his action. His fingers whispered across the curvature of her ear and down the sensitive column of her neck and Calleigh could not fight the instinctive shiver that trembled over her body at the unintentionally provocative touch.

Eric's eyes darkened almost imperceptibly at her response to such a simple, small touch. Damn, this night was going to be pure hell.

The maitre d seated them in a secluded corner curved booth against one of the many exposed brick walls. The low lighting enhanced the intimate feel and had Calleigh shifting slightly in her space, attempting to release some of the tension that coiled inside with Eric so close in such a small and sweetly romantic space. Tension. The tension that was vibrating through her body wasn't all sexual, however. It was a tension of a very different kind. Anxiety.

Their waiter, Michael, took their orders for food and drink and Calleigh was sure he'd remember her from three months ago when she had come there with Jake, but that was ridiculous. How could he? And besides, even if he did, he would not make a mention of it. This restaurant was not known to spread idle gossip. Michele, the bartender, nodded and smiled in Calleigh's direction and for a split second, she forgot why she was so tense about being there.

Eric's eyes focused on Calleigh's form and her focus was drawn away from the bartender and to Eric. Even when her gaze landed on him and locked there, he did not draw his eyes away for long minutes. As had been the case all week, Eric's gaze felt speculative and finally Calleigh could not take it anymore. "What? What's so fascinating? Do I have something in my teeth?" she joked.

Eric smiled slightly. "No," he said softly and was clearly about to say more when their waiter returned with their drink order. Predictably, Calleigh had ordered her classic French martini and Eric had gone with a Scotch on the rocks. Both had also ordered glasses of water. When Michael left, Calleigh continued their aborted conversation.

"You were about to say…?"

"It's nice here. I like the atmosphere," he stated, looking around briefly before bringing his eyes back to hers, something in his voice catching her attention.

Calleigh's voice caught and held in her throat for a few minutes, every sense focused on his words, his tone, the look in his eyes. "Do you…"

A small smile played on his lips as Eric reached across the table to grasp and pull her left hand to his lips, kissing the knuckles, before suckling gently and leaving a tender nip to the sensitized flesh. "Of course, why else would I bring you here? I thought it'd be nice to come to where it all started," he murmured, his lips brushing her skin, locking his eyes with hers.

She couldn't break the intense stare, and so she stared back, and in a space of a few seconds, the lovers talked without ever uttering a sound. A flutter of eyelashes flirted with him, his gaze grew slumberous, communicating his want, and Calleigh's breath grew slightly short and labored, her body flooding with pheromones, his scent, his touch, his _everything, _seeing things in his eyes she had no business imagining in the middle of a restaurant, a very crowded restaurant. Naked skin, heat, the scrape of nails across slicked flesh, the tender assault of a tongue across her pebbled ni—

Calleigh's thoughts, Eric's visions, were interrupted by Michael's impromptu and unwelcomed arrival with their dinner. Calleigh had to smother a pained gasp as she fought to curb her impulses, desire thrumming through her body at the heated look in Eric's eyes. The bastard, he knew exactly what he was doing. He remembered exactly what that restaurant meant to her, meant to him, them, and he was using her memories of that night to enhance her desires for him now.

Dinner was a mostly quiet affair, both intensely aware of the sexual tension thick between them and mercifully, Michael did not return while they were eating. If he had, he might have burned up from the flames of the fire burning brightly between the couple. A couple of times, Eric's legs brushed against Calleigh's under the table, intentionally or unintentionally it was unknown, but she had to bite back a whimper at the gentle scrape of his soft jeans rasping across the sensitized flesh of her calves. Several times Calleigh found herself having to cross and re-cross her legs to get some semblance of relief, the little bit of pressure against the juncture of her thighs at once a welcome and a hellish torture.

Eric couldn't help himself, though. Through the night, from the very moment she'd opened the door looking like she had, Eric had been mesmerized. Something about that night, about her, had captivated him and he was immersed in her. So he found himself unable to not touch her, in whatever small way he could. Stroking her knuckles earlier, both in the car and when they were seated, had settled a small, miniscule part of himself, but paradoxically, Eric found himself needing to touch more. The more he stroked, caressed, the more he wanted to touch, to drown himself in the well that was Calleigh, lap up the water, that sweet, sweet water, lap, lick her up, swallow her down.

His thoughts had the fabric of his jeans tightening painfully across his hips and his hands itched for more. So it was then the pads of his fingertips found the silky skin of her knee, and stroked under her kneecap, caressed so lightly the back of her knee, that sweetly sensitive patch of skin. Stroked once. Twice. A low, broken moan filtered from her lips, small, almost inaudible, and Eric's eyes were drawn to hers, the languidness of her expression, the slack muscles in her face, mouth open slightly to gasp air into lungs that had suddenly gone tight without oxygen. Her fork clattered from a useless hand and Calleigh forgot all about eating her dinner. Instead of pushing him away, as any sane person would, she leaned back slightly into the booth cushion and sunk down slightly into the seat, her ass almost to the edge of the cushion, uncrossed her legs and lifted the one Eric was caressing slightly, so as to give him better access. Her eyes fluttered shut and she surrendered to the sweet sensation. Even if it was insane to do, her last thought was that she would stop him before it went too far.

With her tacit permission given, Eric's fingers continued to circle in light figure-eight patterns against the back of her knee, enflaming that tiny patch of skin for long, long minutes, listening to her almost imperceptible cries, before moving on. He stroked upward, under the light, barely-there fabric of her dress and skated up her inner thigh. Thank God for the live band that had started to play, because Calleigh's cries grew slightly in strength, as if she'd lost track of where she was.

Eric hadn't though, but that didn't mean this wasn't turning him the hell on. Having her like this, on a night much like the one nine months ago when a first date had led to a night of incredible passion…it was intoxicating.

He needed to be closer. He craved it.

With that in mind, Eric slid across the curved seat, shrinking the two feet between them down to almost nothing, crowding her into one corner of the booth. Thank God for low lighting and the fact that his body was bigger than hers, enough to block her view of the rest of the restaurant and afford them a semblance of privacy. He wanted to continue this little bit of tease and he couldn't if that damned rational mind of Calleigh's came to the fore, which it would with one unintentional glance toward the rest of the patrons.

His hand, warm before, but scorching hot now, skated up her inner thigh slowly, incrementally, and when he met the resistance of where her legs met, Eric lightly applied pressure, coaxing the columns to move slightly, enough so he could get his hand into that sweet pocket at her apex. Damn, he had to swallow hard at the thought of touching that juicy flesh.

Calleigh responded to the gentle suggestion and parted her legs slightly, tilting her hips up and allowing for more direct access. Her hands clenched sporadically at the leather cushion under her palms, unable to do anything else. Her brain knew something was off. It knew she shouldn't be doing this, practically having sex, in front of two hundred plus patrons, but she wasn't thinking with her brain right then.

Eric had to bite his lower lip hard to prevent from coming hard at the silky, wet, no, sodden feel of her flesh behind the scrap of lace and satin she called panties. He palmed her flesh and leaned toward Calleigh, nuzzling his face into her cheek. She turned her face toward his neck and bit down, crying out into his skin, muffling the sound of her pleasure against him. Eric shuddered and applied pressure against her mound, thumb beginning to stroke in hard circles against the protruding flesh, her clitoris pulsing in need. He felt a warm gush of cream coat his fingers and when he convulsively clenched the soft flesh again, somehow the tiny scrap of fabric moved, and suddenly Eric's middle finger was pressing just barely into her depths. A spasm of her body around the teasing bit of finger that had entered had Calleigh half sobbing in pleasure-pain, sucking blindingly on his neck.

Ah, _fuck_. Eric withdrew his hand, but not before stroking once more against the heated and swollen flesh, circling her clit, feeling the involuntary pulsing. "We're leaving. Now," he said gutterally, before sucking the fingers that had been graced with her cream into his mouth. Calleigh's eyes dilated further in lust at the obscenely erotic display.

Who cared about dinner when Calleigh could have Eric for dessert?

****

Calleigh's back slammed forcefully against the door after Eric closed it behind them, pressing his body along hers, but she barely noticed. Eric, on the other hand, certainly did. "Sorry," he said, wrenching his lips away from the suction of hers. "Didn't mean—" His apology was cut off as she pulled his lips back to hers, unable to get enough, addicted to his taste, the strangely sweet taste of coffee and _him _that was found in their recesses.

"More," she managed to gasp before pulling his luscious lower lip back into her mouth for an intense nip.

Blindly, they moved from the shadowed hall down to Calleigh's room, Eric leading the way. Neither of them noticed the fact that he knew where her bedroom was, considering he'd never been there. For the last three months since they'd started their relationship again, they'd always made out in the living room, both knowing instinctually that if they went into her bedroom, they weren't coming out until both of them were completely satisfied.

Trembling fingers removed Eric's soft cotton shirt. Silk whispered to the floor as Eric ghosted it down Calleigh's arms. Gone was the flirty black dress worn to entice and tease and slacks slid down legs tense with anticipation. Calleigh was left in her lace-trimmed black bra and panties set while Eric was down to white boxer briefs. Calleigh's lips turned up in a brief moment of levity at the color (tighty-whiteys) before morphing into a more serious and intense look, eyes turning hot from the amount of bare Eric-skin that was available for her viewing and tactile pleasure.

Although they had made-out several times in the convening months since they decided to give it a go, never had they gotten to this point. Both had instinctually cut the tension before to protect their fragile relationship. However, by some silent, mutual agreement, they were ready to take that final step. Now that they were in that moment, Calleigh found her heart rate slowing down, the trembling in her hands diminishing, and her breathing evening out. It wasn't that she wasn't aroused. It wasn't that she _didn't _want him. It was the exact opposite. She _did _want Eric that much. She always had. And now, the moment was crystallizing in her mind and she wanted to absorb every moment, every millisecond of the next few hours. It would be the first time they'd make love in over nine months.

Tears unexpectedly pricked at her eyes and Eric's expression grew concerned. "Hey, baby, we don't have to do this. We could just go back into the living room…"

Calleigh shook her head and had to swallow several times before she could get the words out. "No, that's not it. I'm not having second thoughts about making love. It's just the first time since… I've just really missed you and…" Her throat closed on the words once again. Eric smiled a bit at her words. "…I love you," she said in a rush.

Eric had said the words months before in an impromptu confession, but Calleigh had not. Something had held her back then. If she was truthful about that time to herself, she'd still felt insecure about Eric and his feelings, having just borne the brunt of his intense anger for the previous two weeks. But no longer. They were on more stable ground with each other. Granted, they had a long way more to go, but she felt as though the ground was no longer moving beneath her feet.

Eric loved her, he'd said the words, and more importantly his actions over the last three months demonstrated his feelings. All evening she'd been trying to find the right time to speak what was in her heart, but it hadn't seemed like the right time. She'd come to realize, though, that there was no 'right time' because, as she'd found out nine months ago, life could take everything you cared about away in a heartbeat and she wanted no regrets. Not anymore. Not ever again.

A moment of understanding passed between them and Calleigh took the opportunity to slowly reach her hands out and gently lay them on his chest, stroking lightly. "God, I missed this," she said, joy, a tinge of sadness, love, and affection ringing intensely through her voice.

Calleigh slowly raised her lips to Eric's, touched her open mouth to his and began the slow dance toward melding his mouth to hers. Tongues touched, swirled, darted smoothly, and slowly retreated. As if by silent agreement, their actions were unhurried. Where before there had been desperation, and hunger, and sex, now there was a languidness to their movements, a no-rush feel to their actions that spoke of love, sensuality, and all-the-time-in-the-world patience. There was no need to rush. No desperation to color their actions and turn what should be an incredible act of love between two people into a frantic rush to completion, sensual desire reduced to rutting. No, this moment and all those to follow were about a meeting of minds and bodies, a reflection and physical expression of the emotion two people shared. A sharp contrast to the other times they had been in a similar situation.

Eric's hands moved to her face and he cupped her cheeks, at once supporting and gently taking control of the kiss. Nips were received and given right back, lips curving into approximations of smiles at the sweet teases. After a few moments, his hands skated down her neck, fingers drawing figure-eights on her collarbone, eliciting the most delicious shivers, before trailing down and around her back to reach the clasp of Calleigh's bra. It was removed slowly, Eric giving her several seconds to change her mind, if she so chose, but she did not.

Calleigh had never been more sure of anything in her life.

Eric took his time relearning Calleigh's curves visually, wanting to memorize what he'd dreamed about for months. She was perfectly formed, pink nipples pointing at him, enticing and just begging to be licked, nipped, bitten, and sucked. His mouth flooded with saliva at the thought and Calleigh must've caught his thoughts in his eyes because she shuddered visibly.

Hands cupped gently around the globes, and thumbs brushed once, twice, thrice across their erect tips. Calleigh whimpered and swayed on her feet. Eric let go of her right breast to grasp her hip and secure her body against his. Lips lowered to suckle and her knees about buckled. Eric had to swiftly remove his mouth to prevent his teeth from nipping a bit too hard on that sensitive flesh. He backed further into the room and they rounded the bed, coaxed her to sit down on the side so she would be more stable, and he could continue what he'd barely begun. He parted her knees gently.

Long moments passed as Eric worshipped her breasts with his hands and mouth, teeth and tongue. Calleigh's movements grew more frantic and frenetic with every lash, nip, suckle, and stroke of his tongue on her sensitive skin. Her body throbbed everywhere, but most especially at the points of contact with his mouth and between her legs.

But Eric had more in mind, apparently. He pushed her down to the bed gently, so that she lay horizontal and parallel to the head of the bed, placed in the middle, with Eric hovering above her. He bussed one last kiss on her lips, before trailing down her body, pausing only to press one more kiss to each nipple and then onward to her belly. He spent long moments there too, pressing and stroking such that Calleigh thought that a place that had never before been an erogenous zone had been converted. He slowly, painstakingly, tortuously lifted his head and hovered a mere inch above her pubis, breathing hotly against her core. A swift buck of her pelvis had Eric impatiently removing the silky fabric of her panties down past her hips, over her thighs and off her legs, before tossing them aside.

Calleigh's hips strained upward to coax, cajole, anything to get his mouth where she wanted it, but to no avail. Eric would do what he wanted, and not a moment before. He had been like this before, intensely concentrated on her pleasure, always thinking about her. Loving her so deeply. A pang of regret went through Calleigh, but before she could linger on the emotion, Eric took mercy and lowered his lips. Like before, he went slowly, methodically, and it soon became apparent he was testing different moves to see the reactions he received. Did a wiggle of his tongue on the underside of her clit give him a breathy moan or a high-pitched squeal? Did the nip of his teeth against her lips yield a scream and a thrusting of her hips against his face in a demand that almost knocked his teeth back? Yep, and he loved every buck, scream, and scratch down his back.

Calleigh had to strain, fight herself not to orgasm too quickly. It had been so long since they had made love, it felt like years, but even so, her body anxiously remembered and demanded satisfaction. She denied herself as much as possible to draw out the pleasure, but soon she was succumbing to his skillful tongue and tender lips. When she came back down, Calleigh's heart was still hammering in her chest and a satisfied lassitude had started to spread through her limbs. However, that lassitude disappeared when she felt him draw off his underwear and get into position. "No," she murmured.

Eric's face looked stricken for a second and Calleigh would have laughed if the situation wasn't so serious. "No, Eric. Not yet. I want…more. I want…you," she said shyly, her intentions being to repay the attention he had bestowed upon her.

He breathed a sigh of relief and twisted to lie back down, allowing Calleigh free reign with his body. She tentatively pushed him back to the bed, reversing their positions. Eric's body eagerly pointed toward her, silently requesting whatever she was willing to give. He watched as Calleigh settled into position and then reversed direction, heading up instead of down. A twinge of disappointment was felt before the glide of soft lips caressed his, Eric forgot all about any expectations, and he lost himself in the magic that was Calleigh.

She pulled away after long moments, satisfied at having left him short of breath and trailed her lips down his neck and chest, pausing to kiss, suckle, and nip teasingly here and there along the way back down to where he was so hard and eager for her. She held his gaze as she slowly lowered her head and laved his hipbones. Calleigh had to suppress a smile as Eric's half-hearted protest reverberated through her bedroom. Soon though, that tender bit of flesh wasn't enough and she found her mouth positively flooded with saliva at the thought of taking him inside. It had been _months _since she'd last tasted him, and although Calleigh had never really been a woman to enjoy such an endeavor, she'd found it almost addicting when it came to Eric. One more quick glance up to see if he was watching (he was), and she lowered her face toward the erection jutting proudly from the trim nest of hair surrounding it.

Eric's head fell back at the first touch of her tongue, a tentative lick, soft, barely there, a tickle against sensitive skin. He could feel Calleigh touching him with her fingers, lightly stroking, as if she were learning his body, what he liked. That thought changed when she opened her mouth further and sucked him in, tickling the sensitive crown, before running her tongue along the underside, up and down the throbbing vein. She wasn't _learning _his body. She _owned _it. Lock, stock, and barrel. From his sketchy memory of their short months together, they'd been sexually active and damn, the woman definitely knew and remembered what he liked.

Calleigh suckled him strongly, gaining more confidence in her actions by the reaction of her lover. She might not consciously remember every trick he enjoyed, but her body did and muscle memory was a wonderful thing. The soft and tentative touches dissolved in favor of strong pulls and hard sweeps of her tongue across his crown. When she dipped her tongue into the sensitive slit, Eric's back bowed instinctively and his fists clenched tight in the bedclothes, hips vibrating in the fight not to thrust his body into her face. Calleigh moaned at the silky taste that adorned that small part of him and craved more. More determined than ever to not just give him the orgasm she'd received, but to selfishly taste his release, she redoubled her efforts.

At first, Eric didn't realize a change had occurred. He was too wrapped up in the raw pleasure of having his girlfriend's warm and soft mouth enveloping the hard ache that had taken over his body, but when he began to feel that familiar pressure and tingle down low in his back, some semblance of sanity took over and dragged the near-comatose CSI out of nirvana. "Baby, no," he gasped out, fighting his body's need to orgasm. He'd only had his right hand for company for months now. Not that Calleigh hadn't been willing, but he had known it would have rushed and possibly ruined this thing between them. She ignored him until Eric tugged at her neck, breaking her concentration.

"Why'd…?" she asked huskily, her gorgeous mouth swollen red and shiny from working him over.

Eric almost came at the seductive sight of her, mussed hair, swollen lips, sultry and dusky green eyes at half-mast. He had to swallow down the saliva in his mouth to get out the words, "Because I want the first time to be inside of you." He said them quietly, breath still a bit short, but they were even more important for all the emotion they conveyed. It would be the first time since before they broke up that he would be inside her, that they would be making love. And even though Eric had had some really incredible dreams about them, most of them memories, the details were sketchy at best, Technicolor technology, when he craved HiDefinition 1080p.

Calleigh's eyes cleared and then went liquid with tears at the sensitive words of her lover. She hadn't thought of it that way. She'd just been going on instinct, listening to the demands her body and her heart placed on her. But this wasn't just about her anymore. In fact, it never had been. It was about them, about what _they _wanted. And right now, Calleigh couldn't be more in agreement. While she'd been tasting Eric, she had somewhat sublimated her own desires, but now that ache that had been put on the backburner for the better part of twenty minutes now made itself known with one well-said sentence. Her body wanted Eric, more than anything she'd ever wanted in her life. Her heart needed him and her soul ached for him.

She crawled slowly up his body, kissing softly here or there, laving a scar left by one of Eric's sisters when they were kids, before reaching his full, tender lips. Her eyes locked on his as she leaned down and kissed him again. God, kissing him would never get old. Not in five years. Not in fifty. She expected her independent nature to bristle at the fleeting thought, but surprisingly, it didn't. Something clicked inside. Eric was it for her.

While Calleigh was lost in her own head for a moment, Eric took advantage and reversed their positions so that he was hovering above her, comfortably bracing his corded arms on either side of her head. When he began to lower his body to meet hers, Calleigh's eyes sharpened and focused on his. "Nice of you to join me," he teased.

"Always," she sassed with a smile, reaching up and caressing his face lightly.

Eric reached down and tested her readiness, wanting to make sure she was prepared. He shouldn't have worried. Between the restaurant, his oral attentions, and the arousal she'd felt going down on him, Calleigh was soaking wet and swollen for him. Brown eyes darkened impossibly further when he brought his hand to his mouth and licked his fingers.

Calleigh's internal muscles clenched in remembrance of that wicked, wicked tongue and the erotic licking of his fingers in the restaurant. "Enough of the teasing, Eric. Enough of the foreplay. I'm so ready I'm dripping," she whispered.

"Hmmm, I can't wait to taste again," he murmured.

"Oh, you—" Her protest was cut off by a small but strategic movement of his hips that brought that magnificent piece of equipment into exquisite skin-to-skin contact with her molten core. All Calleigh could do was moan.

At first, Eric glided against her, getting himself wet with the copious amounts of lubrication her body provided. Although he wasn't the biggest man in the locker room, he was a good size and Calleigh hadn't been seeing anyone since Jake, so Eric planned to take things nice and slow. At least, to start. When he was slick from her body, he poised himself at her entrance and began to push slowly inside, one inch at a time.

Calleigh had to fight with her own body to relax. It had been a long time since she'd had sex, even longer since she'd had it with Eric. Jake had been good in the sack, but Eric was physically bigger and her body had adjusted to first—a smaller man—and then no man, but her resident B.O.B. So taking him in for the first time, no matter how much her mind, heart, and body wanted it, was going to be slow-going. And fucking tortuous. Because she wanted all of him inside her _now. _

Finally, when he had sunk his entire length inside the hot recesses of her body, Eric breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed marginally, but held himself still for a few minutes, allowing his partner to adjust. He knew it had been a long time for her—he could feel the tightness in her muscles, and he didn't want to cause her a moment's pain. But some caveman part of him loved the fact that he'd had to work his body slowly into hers for her to accommodate him.

Calleigh could feel her muscles softening, pulsing around him, and she could almost feel the light pulsing of his shaft as they adjusted to each other. Within a few minutes it began to get harder to stay still, the ache deep inside screaming for her to move, arch her back, rotate her hips, cant her pelvis, anything to ease the violent need inside. Her fingers flexed on Eric's hips, pressure applied to toned skin and muscle. Eric raised his head, eyes opening from being held closed in concentration, focusing on Calleigh. "You can move," she said softly. "I'm fine."

A sigh of relief shuddered through his body and the fine tremors that had begun to take hold quieted at the first slow stroke back and then inside. Both moaned at the electric feel, Calleigh as sensitive walls were caressed and Eric as his blood-swollen erection was gripped by what felt like wet silk, tugging at his flesh. His movements at first were slow, teasing, not by design, not meant to torture, but because he wanted to memorize every second of this first time with Calleigh.

He had so few memories of before, he wanted to commit every second of her to mind, paint a picture using every vibrant, color-saturated paint known to man to capture each moment. The soft expression on her face when he first entered her - shock, relief, love, hunger, and affection written on the canvas of her skin. The light flush that overtook her cheeks and traveled to her chest when he rotated his hips and thrust up that first time, hitting that elusive G-Spot. The soft gasp that followed and the flutter of her eyes as she failed to keep them open through a few light spasms. Not a true orgasm, not by any sense of the word, but a nice precursor to one, whetting her appetite and Eric's for that plateau.

Even so, he could not resist when she began to press him for more, faster, harder. Her hands grew more frantic and clawed at his back, urging him. She was so close, he could tell and he redoubled his efforts, ignoring his burning lungs, pounding heart, and throbbing cock. He was determined to bring her to that point first, and then, only then would he follow her over.

"Eric, Christ, Eric," Calleigh panted, hiking her legs up high on his back, straining to find her release. She was so close, so close, but she couldn't quite reach.

Some instinct deep inside had him pulling her left leg from its death grip on his hip and drawing it up, opening her body further to him. As a result, he gained a precious inch that granted him a long moan from his lover. A hard stab had her muscles clenching convulsively around him and had Eric biting his lip to keep from going over. Not without her, he chanted inside. Not without her.

A low groan released when Calleigh arched her back slightly, which in turn brought Eric a few centimeters deeper inside, but enough that he was butting against her cervix. Most women couldn't take penetration that deep, but Calleigh craved it with Eric. He was the only one who'd ever gotten that deep and not been kicked out of her bed. With him, it was all pleasure, no pain.

A rotation of his hips followed by an angled thrust that brushed her clit and hit her G-Spot internally had Calleigh almost screaming in pleasure, arching her neck so the long cords stood out in relief. Eric smiled smugly. "Ah, that's what you need, baby?" he murmured before repeating the bone-jarring, sanity-stealing move. Calleigh felt it start deep in her hips and back, a pressure, a tingle that signified her orgasm. A few more of Eric's moves like he'd performed before had Calleigh clenching down on his cock in a rhythmic wave, her whole body overtaken, limbs trembling. Eric came swiftly after Calleigh, the silken feel of her body caressing his, the knowledge she'd come in his arms, sending him over the edge.

He collapsed in her arms, face buried against her neck, trying to catch his breath and listening as Calleigh attempted the same. When he thought he could move, Eric attempted to push himself to the side, but she would have none of that. "No, stay right where you are. I like you there."

"But I'll smother you," he protested, attempting to move to the side again.

"I missed being covered by you. Stay right where you are," she replied, pulling him down from his half-raised position, cradling his head in her hand. Eric nestled his nose right back into its now-favorite spot—the base of her neck.

"I'm not going anywhere, Calleigh. I may not remember much, but I know this is where I'm meant to be," he murmured, softly pressing a kiss to the soft skin his nose had claimed, before laying his head down again and closing his eyes.

"Good, because I'm not letting you go. Ever," Calleigh said softly through a yawn, one hand cradling his back and the other caressing the short hair at the vulnerable nape of his neck, before closing her eyes too. Sex, although arguably the best pastime ever, was incredibly tiring and Calleigh found herself unable to stay awake. No matter. They could talk tomorrow. They had the rest of their lives to talk.

* * *

So, hot and bothered yet? ;)


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: So I said there was one more chapter. Well.... I lied. It's _now_ going to be one more chapter. After this one. I just couldn't have one chapter at nearly 10,000 words. Thanks, Jen, for looking through and helping with suggestions. Any further grammatical errors are completely mine. I was too excited to get this up to have her go through it one more time with a fine tooth comb. So, here you are. Enjoy and please review. And warning in advance: Next chapter will be M, HARD M.

* * *

Two and a half months later…

"Damn it, Calleigh, what the hell is going on with you?" Eric yelled, forcefully closing the door behind him. Even angry, he had the presence of mind and the courtesy to let her pass through the door of his condo first. They'd just come back from dinner, a dinner in which Calleigh had been distant all night. Again.

Calleigh breezed past him, barely allowing her shoulder to graze his chest on her way into the living room. She was just as agitated as he was, evidenced by the short, jerky movements of her body as she walked into the kitchen. She dropped her clutch onto the counter and resisted the urge to turn and face him. She knew she had been distant lately, she realized how she had pulled back, but she couldn't describe why. Something inside was pushing him away, even when the majority of her wanted to pull him close. Tonight had been the same as the last couple of weeks, little conversation and what small amount was said was anything but meaningful. It was like she was in a cotton-covered bubble and everything outside, including Eric, was insignificant. And she didn't know why she was feeling like this.

Eric followed her, knowing she was trying to avoid the conversation and that wasn't something he was willing to allow. She'd been pulling away from him for the greater part of the past two weeks and he was sick of it. This evening had been the last straw. It was so damn frustrating. She hadn't really talked to him for the last several weeks and had rebuffed each attempt to start a conversation and identify what was going on. She was scaring him. The last time she was like this…

"Are you breaking up with me? Do you want out of this relationship?" Eric voiced his worst fear, his heart hammering in his chest, stomach tight and queasy with dread of her answer. Sweat beaded on his forehead slightly, face hot with tension.

Calleigh whirled around, her hand drawn up over the base of her throat. "No, no, that's not what I want. I don't know Eric. I don't know what or why I've been doing, acting like I have lately. I can't explain… I've had this feeling in the pit of my stomach, anxiety, and I don't know why."

"You've been pushing me away, Calleigh. What else am I to think? You've been so distant the last two weeks and…" Eric didn't want to voice the next few words because he was afraid of what they could imply. "The last time you were like this…a week later you broke up with me. Don't, Calleigh. Don't make that decision for us again," Eric pled.

Calleigh gasped. "That's it. That's why… It's… Almost a year ago we broke up, I broke us up. I've been pulling back, thinking about that time, not realizing it." It made so much sense. She'd been subconsciously pulling back, distancing herself from him in an attempt to remain aloof and protect herself from hurt if, _when_, they broke up. Because she _still wasn't truly convinced they were in it for the long haul. _

Past experience, first with her parents and then later with the stellar examples of men she'd dated and their lack of commitment (or in the case of one – sanity), had colored her perceptions of relationships. Her mother had been lost in her own world for much of Calleigh's childhood and adolescence, content to shop and push the world away, only to re-emerge briefly when her husband's chronic drinking interrupted her appointments. When things were good, they were great, but when they were bad, they were horrible. Growing up in a household where you never knew if you would bear witness to laughter or soft whispers or tension-filled silence or screams between your parents…They were a volatile couple, everything perfectly fine for weeks at a time, and with one well-placed barb, from either party, they were back on the outs, each threatening to divorce and take Calleigh and the money. As if she were a possession to be fought over. A commodity to be used in the effort to hurt the other party. They finally split for good when Calleigh was almost an adult, exiting her teen years and no one had breathed a bigger sigh of relief than she.

Then there were the few relationships she'd been in. John, Peter, and Jake. John Hagen had been far too possessive, to the point of 'time to obtain a restraining order.' He was stifling and even at the very beginning, something about him had sent up red flags internally that she had steadfastly ignored, wanting to give him a chance. After they broke up and he was suspended due to 'back problems,' things had worsened and culminated in his suicide in front of her. Possessive and crazy-depressed to boot.

Next had been Peter. An acquaintance turned good friend through their shared investigations, Calleigh had liked the man and finally made a move when she found out about ADA Monica West. Even with the stellar example of her parents' relationship, or rather, lack of one, she had a core of values that she refused to cross the line for and one of those was cheating. Watching her parents' indiscretions and their blatant knowledge and ignorance had led her to adopt the belief in monogamy. She had no respect for those who cheated on their significant other, regardless of whether or not they were married. And Peter had led her to believe he was still single. He was still interested. He had commitment issues that, if she had not found out quite by accident about his fiancée, she believed they might have pursued their flirtation and taken it to the next level.

And then there was Jake. When they were in the Academy, he was dedicated to her, yes, but he was also married to his job, and she always got the feeling she came in second. An adrenaline junkie at his core, he hadn't then and to some extent, still couldn't commit to anyone, including her, as much as he had protested back then. Playing second fiddle to a career, no matter how lucrative, was not something Calleigh wanted for her life. She wanted, no, _needed _stability.

Eric came along and suddenly everything she'd been looking for, she found. In one man. Damn, that had scared the hell out of her, her best friend, always there beside her, but never really seen…Now he was her lover and they were great together. And thinking back now, she acknowledged reluctantly she had been holding a part of herself back. Because that was what was the norm. Past experience taught her to never give all of yourself to a person and she hadn't. She kept a part of herself closed off, and out of fear, she ended it. And then the unthinkable happened and Eric lost his memory of them. And a voice inside said, _See, this is why you don't give everything. Protect yourself at all costs. _(Never mind the rational part of her brain told her that she couldn't have foreseen the circumstances of Eric's shooting and the subsequent memory loss.)

Old habits die-hard and now that they were back together, she couldn't help but think, _just wait for it. The other shoe will be dropping anytime now. _Nothing this good could possibly last. That kind of love was rare and she wasn't convinced something that incredible could happen to her. To them. Love like that came once in a lifetime, if it did at all, and why would it happen to her? No, she concluded, even now, she wasn't sure if they would last.

Eric saw the truth in her eyes as she realized it herself. His mouth turned downward in dismay. How could she believe he wasn't committed to her? After all they'd been through, everything they'd dealt with since his shooting? The incredible struggle he'd gone through to remember their time together? If there was one thing that had convinced him they were supposed to be together, it was the struggle they'd gone through in order to come to where they were now. What was happiness without strife to make it all worth it? Make you appreciate what you had?

"Do…do you want to let this go? Do you want to stop this now, before either of us get hurt more than we're going to if we continue?" Eric asked quietly, seriously, reading the expression on her face and understanding her thoughts. He was already so invested, but he could let her go. He could.

Maybe.

"No, Eric, I don't want to lose you. I don't want to lose this…us," she said in a whisper, her throat aching as she said the words.

"Then you need to trust me, Calleigh. You need to trust this…us," he remarked. "Don't let your insecurities get in the way of something that could mean everything. I love you, you know that. I think this, we could be…" his voice trailed off, and Eric had to start again. "This means something, what we have. I don't know how to define what's between us, I don't know if there are even words adequate enough to describe it, but what we have is special, Calleigh. I can feel it, in my bones." He emphasized his words by tapping his chest. "I feel it in my heart."

"I know. I feel something too. It's hard to describe. But it's hard to turn off the fear, the insecurity," she replied truthfully. She did love him, want him, but her past experiences with office romances had not left her receptive to them.

Eric approached her and grasped her hands with his. "No one's asking you to, sweetheart. All I'm asking is that you try to push past it and remember what's waiting on the other side for you. Me. I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere," he said steadily, his heart beating a solid rhythm now, hands no longer shaking and instead assuredly and warmly holding hers. "I'm not leaving you, Calleigh. If you run again, I'm following you this time. I won't let you go. I'm not losing you again. You're too damn important," he asserted. He couldn't lose her again. He didn't think he could take it. It was one thing if she let her fear lead her; it was quite another if she genuinely wanted out. He could swallow his pain if she wanted to leave because she didn't love him anymore. But he wouldn't let her go if she let insecurity rule their relationship.

Some small part of Calleigh's psyche and heart calmed at his steady and slow words, the conviction of his beliefs evident in his tone, the smooth cadence of his voice. He meant what he said. He would follow her. He wouldn't let her fears jeopardize their relationship. He would protect her, even from herself.

She squeezed his hands back, feeling the slow rhythm of his thumbs running back and forth, back and forth across the back of her hands. "I'll try, Eric. Not to let my past interfere with our present, our future. I'm sorry, for making you feel insecure about your place in my life these last few weeks. I've just been hurt in the past by office romances… Early on in my career, when I was working for West Carroll Parish sheriff's department, I became involved with a co-worker," she told him haltingly.

"It didn't end well. After several attempts to put it out gently, I finally had to be direct. The guy...he didn't take it too well. He was a senior investigator and for the next several months after all I heard in the office were the snickers and speculative glances, the sly, sneaky occasional comment that while innocuous to some, led me to believe he'd told personnel about our intimate life to humiliate me. It worked very well. Within weeks it was rumored I'd slept with him for a promotion and he'd turned me down and I was working my way through upper management," she said with disgust. "I finally couldn't take anymore and left. It's one of the biggest reasons I came to Miami. Warm climate, similar to Louisiana, but as different from backwater as a city can get.

"So that's why I pulled away. Past experience has taught me it isn't a good idea to get involved with a co-worker. It's instinctual for me to protect myself."

"That's the thing, baby," Eric said, releasing her hands to reach up and cup her face, bringing his close to hers, capturing her gaze with his intense brown eyes, attempting to convey his intentions by action and look, instead of only by words. "You don't need to protect yourself against me. I'm never going to hurt you, not like him and not like any other man in your past. I'm not going to say we're not going to argue, fight, not with both of our tempers." His lips quirked up in a small smile. "But we'll work it out, because we mean more to each other than just a casual relationship.

"The son of a bitch deserves whatever hell comes to him, whether it's earthly or heavenly, but that's in the past. Don't let it color your reactions, Calleigh. Don't let him win. I'm not like him. I never will be. I love you," he murmured before capturing her lips in a tender, but passionate kiss. He reluctantly broke away and pressed his forehead against hers, their noses brushing teasingly. "C'mon, let's go to bed. Let me _show _you just how much I love you."

Calleigh's response was a light laugh as he swept her off her feet and carried her into the bedroom.

****

Two weeks later….

It was all about the numbers. Six months after reconstituting their relationship. It was hard to believe six months had passed since he blurted out he loved her and they agreed to try again. Incredible to believe that they'd rebuilt a trust that had been shattered on both sides by so much anger, dishonesty, pain, and hurt when six months ago Eric hadn't even been sure if they would make it. Five months, twenty days since their 'first' kiss after agreeing to try again. She had tasted like candy canes on a winter day, cool and sweet in his mouth. Five months and three days since their first hot and heavy make-out session. He would never look at his couch the same again.

Three months since they first made love again after breaking up. Thinking about that night was enough to get him hot and hungry for more. Two months since they completed the all-important ritual of any successful relationship: the exchanging of keys. Another bit of trust had been exchanged symbolically with the passing of those keys. Another piece of his heart now belonged to Calleigh and he knew he had another of hers as well. And now, one month since they began to lightly flirt in the office, although not with anyone within eye or hearing distance. Calleigh was adamant about that, to keep things (mostly) professional when they were in the office.

Since she had told him haltingly of the office romance in Louisiana that had soured and he understood her reticence about 'outing' themselves to their co-workers, they had taken things slow at the department. Calleigh's experience there had kept them restrained in the office, only trading knowing glances every now and then, speaking with their eyes what their lips could not in such crowded and close quarters. Though Eric didn't like not being able to acknowledge her publicly in front of their colleagues and friends, he did like a bit of the thrill that came with the territory. It was a bit exciting to have whole conversations with nothing but your eyes meeting covertly over meetings, feet tangling beneath the oak table.

And now, finally, Eric was feeling like he was back on solid ground whereas before it had felt like the floor was going to crumble beneath him and the ceiling was making those tell-tale groaning sounds as if it would cave in. Fighting with Calleigh for those awful weeks had been some of the worst of his life. He was damned glad that was behind them. Instead, they were in sync, at work and at home. Especially at work. Everyone had pretty much breathed a collective silent sigh of relief when their tension-filled fights had stopped and they got back into the swing of things. If anyone made a good team, it was Eric and Calleigh. Most of the time.

"Eric, what are you doing? If you spill that on the shirt, it'll ruin the evidence," Calleigh said anxiously, watching her boyfriend of six months mix two solutions together to create a deep purple color.

"Relax, Cal. Don't you trust me?" he said, a small smile playing across his lips, glancing at his girlfriend standing not two feet away. He caught and held her eyes for several long moments to cover his lapse in judgment. His mind had wandered for a few minutes and he didn't want it to be obvious to his sharp and keen-eyed partner, so he intended to distract her for a second and get her mind off of his lapse in judgment. It was damn hard to concentrate with her not six inches from his body, giving off heat from her form, the light scent of lilacs perfuming the air.

"Eric, you _know_ I do," she said softly, alluding to a much deeper trust than that of colleagues. "But that doesn't mean I can't question your methods." They were in the lab, processing a shirt, retrieved from their latest victim, spattered in blood and other bodily fluids.

"Is there a problem here?" Horatio asked, standing in the doorway of the glass-encased room. He was passing by on his way to the garage when he heard the anxious voice of one of his female investigators.

"No. Just making sure Eric knows what he's doing," Calleigh replied sweetly, pointedly looking at her partner.

"I will have you know—" Eric began, a teasing smile on his lips, eyes lit warmly on her.

"Looks like everything's under control. I'm going to a call-out. Mr. Wolf and Ms. Boavista are accompanying me. Calleigh, you're acting supervisor until I return," Horatio interrupted, satisfied all was right with the situation and his two investigators weren't fighting. Calleigh nodded in acknowledgment, and he glided out the door and left them to their light and bantering argument. A smile curved his lips slightly as he removed his glasses from his coat pocket and played with the rims speculatively. His investigators' relationship had changed drastically in the last seven months. From half a month of sniping at each other like snarling dogs to a tentative dance of circling, feeling each other out, to what they were now: obviously together.

Horatio had never been one for tattling. What his investigators did in their spare time was their business, as long as it didn't interfere in their jobs.

And if by keeping Eric and Calleigh's relationship a secret allowed him to thumb his nose in Stetler's unknowing face, well, then that was just an added bonus.

****

Later that morning, Calleigh was processing and comparing striations from two bullets from two different crime scenes, lost in her work, when her concentration broke suddenly, her senses alight and dancing at a familiar stimulus at her back. "Hey," a deep voice murmured from behind her, almost directly into her ear, stimulating the sensitive and delicate hairs that adorned the curvature of that surface.

"Hey," she repeated back, barely repressing a shiver. "One sec. Let me finish comparing these striations and then I'll join you for lunch." It was damn hard to concentrate with Eric right behind her. She was vividly aware of his every move, shuffle, and sigh. She could feel him moving around her space, fingering different objects, curious about what she was working on. _Concentrate, _she told herself sternly. A few precious moments later, Calleigh sighed in frustration and backed away from the microscope.

"Is that a good sigh or a bad one?" Eric asked teasingly.

Calleigh smiled briefly, and shrugged on a light cardigan after removing her lab coat. "The bullets didn't match. I thought for sure I'd have the evidence. This guy has been knocking over gas stations for the better part of a month, but we haven't been able to connect him to even one."

"Don't worry. You'll get him. I know it," Eric said confidently, leading Calleigh through Firearms with a gentle hand at the small of her back. "So, where do you want to go for lunch?"

"Hmm, I'm not too hungry. Whatever you pick will be fine," she said noncommittally.

Eric gave her a look at the indecisiveness of her reply and added, "Then let's get some Cuban food. I haven't seen my buddy Tony in months."

Calleigh smiled. "Fine by me. I'd like to meet some of your friends out of work."

They walked down to the bay, as it wasn't that far from the main office. As they turned down Havana Street, Calleigh's gait slowed a bit, and Eric had to prod her to move a bit faster. They only had an hour for lunch and fifteen minutes had already been taken walking there. Eric and Calleigh entered La Terisita and got into the long line already formed at the front of the store. Slowly, they made it to the counter and Eric was greeted by Mr. Suarez.

"Eric, long time no see, mi amigo! How you been?" he asked, shaking Eric's hand firmly over the counter.

"Fine. Great actually. Hey, I'd like to intro—" Eric started.

"Calico! Hola, my little chica! Como estas? I see Eric finally brought you back to see me," Antonio greeted Calleigh, coming from behind the counter to hug the blonde.

Calleigh ducked her head a bit self-consciously. "Hi, Mr. Suarez, how have you been?"

Eric was confused as hell. "Wait, you two know each other?"

Calleigh watched Eric as Antonio replied, "Remember several months ago? I asked if you were going to bring back the little blonde chica. Tu novia."

Eric remembered that day.

"_Hey, by the way, are you still seeing that pretty blonde you used to bring by? The pretty green-eyed chica?" _

_  
Eric's face twisted into a frown. "Calleigh? She's—We're not dating. We never were. She's just a friend," he denied. _

_Antonio gave him a look, but didn't say anything aloud, although he did mutter something under his breath. Sounded suspiciously like, "Yeah, right. And I'm Jesus." _

"Yeah, I do remember that day. I thought you were crazy," Eric said, smiling a bit, remembering those moments.

"Who had the last laugh? Knew you two were together. You used to bring this pretty green-eyed chica to see me all the time. I thought the two of you would get married, have some babies," Mr. Suarez added, hinting strongly.

Calleigh blushed and moved on down the line, leaving Eric to fend for himself.

"Uh, yeah, well…" he flushed and ducked his head shyly, at a loss for words.

Mr. Suarez laughed heartily, enjoying the speechlessness from a normally cool and talkative Eric. He decided to cut the young man a break and changed the subject. "So, what can I get for you and your chica?"

Eric smiled gratefully and placed their orders: Vallejo steak and two orders of yellow rice and black beans with tostones. Damn, he loved south Florida. Nothing like Cuban food. Eric gathered their tray, paid for the food, and joined Calleigh at a back table. She had secured one of a few tables still left open. After all, it was lunch time. As Eric walked up, he caught her tracing something on the table absentmindedly, a small smile on her face, what little of it he could see as it was turned down. "What put that smile on your face?" Eric asked lightly, as he sat and placed the tray down on the table in front of her.

Calleigh pulled back to make room for their food. The tables were smaller than average and so Eric had to remove the plates and then set aside the tray before they could enjoy their lunch. Calleigh waited patiently for the few seconds it took him to do that before responding. Once his eyes were back on her, she replied, "We used to come here a lot, you know, before."

A flash of regret shone in his eyes, and then was gone. No use crying over spilt milk. What was done was done, simple as that. He wanted to focus on the present and look toward the future, not linger on the past.

"Mr. Suarez pretty much kept this table open for us. It kinda became ours," she said quietly, a small smile playing on her lips, "and we christened it."

Eric's mouth opened in shock at her words and his eyes widened in surprise. When had they-Wh—?

"Not _that _kind of 'christened,'" she chided and gestured to the scarred table. Eric's brain took a few seconds to process her words, his mind still lost in the gutter, before he leaned forward to read the small writing in the wooden surface. There, in his and her handwriting, were a small "E" and "C" neatly and stylishly carved into the grain of the wood side by side.

"I-I don't remember this, but it does seem very familiar," Eric said softly, fingertips tracing over the small letters, meeting Calleigh's halfway through the design. He snared her fingers, curving his over hers so they intertwined and brought their hands up to his lips where he tenderly placed a kiss on the soft skin of her knuckles.

Even now, weeks and weeks after they began anew, Eric still had this…power, Calleigh thought, her eyes glued to his lips, focused on the attention he was bestowing upon her fingertips. She had to suppress a light tremor that wanted to run through her body as she felt the sharp edge of his teeth and the gentle scrape of those surfaces across her flesh.

Eric's eyes flared hotly at the subtle signs of her reaction to him, the slight tremble in her fingers, the widening of her eyes, the dilation of her pupils indicating interest, the rush of her pulse against her wrist he could feel, the delicate skin pulsing erratically with her charged thoughts. She may have thought she'd suppressed the response of her body to his attentions, but he knew her almost better than he knew himself.

Things between them had the power to flare up suddenly, the fires that were always gently stoked, quickening to a conflagration that could consume them, and everything around them, if they weren't careful. More than once over the last several months had they almost been caught by their fellow brothers in blue on patrol in the park. Eric would hate to have to explain to their boss why they were arrested for public indecency, and so he pulled back slowly from Calleigh, allowing her body to adjust to the lack of touch.

Within minutes the haze faded from her eyes and clarity returned, and with it, a faint blush. Eric had to suppress a smile at the honest reaction and pretended he didn't notice. Instead, he returned her focus to their lunch by handing her a fork and knife. Lunch went relatively quickly and smoothly once the sexual tension seeped from the forefront to simmer in the background as it had most of the day.

Mr. Suarez watched the fireworks from his front row seat at the counter. He knew he had been right all those months ago when Eric had come in, looking slightly puzzled. He had thought at the time the couple had broken up because of Eric's condition, but looking at them now, he realized it must have been something more. The easy way they were together, the teasing and laughter apparent even from his vantage, showed Mr. Suarez his speculations had not been correct on that front. It was obvious they were in love—something must have come between them—but now that they were clearly back together, he could hear the church bells ringing in the not too distant future. And, if he wasn't mistaken, the glow around the young woman's face wasn't just that of a woman in love.

"Hey, what do you say to a picnic dinner in the park tonight? We can sit, watch the sunset, and relax?" Eric asked Calleigh as they walked back to the department.

She grasped his hand and squeezed his fingers before swinging their combined hands back and forth playfully. "That sounds wonderful. As long as we get off on time tonight, that will be great," she said, referring to the several instances in the past months either one of them had been called in to work overtime because a case had been caught at the tail end of a shift.

"Oh, don't you worry about that. All taken care of. I asked Ryan and Natalia to cover any unforeseen circumstances," Eric reassured. "We're in the clear."

Calleigh's response was a bright smile and a light laugh that tinkled on the balmy Florida air.

Eric finished getting dressed, cursing under his breath. They had separated after work to go home and get freshened for tonight. He had given them two hours to do so, and yet somehow, he was just barely finishing, and he still had to go pick up Calleigh. It had taken him half an hour alone to find what he'd been looking for, the small box lost among his vast possessions. Now that it was in his coat pocket, he could breath a sigh of relief. Somewhat. He was going to be late, he knew that, but it would be worth it. It had to be.

Calleigh had just straightened the straps on her green and white flowered summer dress when the knock on her door came. "Eric, just come on in," she called, exasperated. Goodness, considering he had her key… but he had always been a gentleman. By now, she knew his knock, which was the only reason she didn't go to the door and check it really was him. There was just something distinctive about his presence…

Eric whistled low as he walked into her bedroom. "Wow," he said, eyes raking her petite form, from the soft curls framing her face to the sleek lines of the summer dress that hugged every curve in her body and emphasized the complexities that made up his lover – femininity and strength, power and passion. A simple sundress combined with sandals. Why was it such a simple outfit had the power to bring a man to his knees? Eric's silent question was answered by the warmth in Calleigh's eyes. It was _her. _It had always been her.

Huskiness raked his voice as he tried to speak and so he had to clear his throat before attempting again, "So, you ready? I've got the basket and blanket in the car and all we need is a bottle of wine. Your choice."

Calleigh lightly kissed him in greeting before moving beyond him back into the main living area. She snagged a bottle of Chianti on the way out. "Coming?" she asked provocatively, one eyebrow teasingly rose as she opened the front door and posed in the frame.

_Not yet,_ Eric thought wickedly, swiftly moving to follow her out the door.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: WARNING: THIS IS NOT FOR CHILDREN. This chapter is rated a very HARD M. You don't like, you don't read. Simple as that. Don't blame me for the corruption of your morals.

On another note...this is it. The 15th and final chapter for Waking Dreams, which means, no matter how much you request, I will not be writing a sequel. Sorry, I've got other fic to write. I want to thank every one of you that read, and even more, I want to thank those that actually reviewed and kept with me over the last nine months. It's been a hell of a labor of love. I also want to take this time to thank Jen for reviewing for me. Without her, there'd have been many more mistakes than there were. lol. One last warning: DON'T read this at work. Or around your kids. But your respective spouse or lover may benefit. lol

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The drive to Pullen Park proved uneventful, but only due to the fact both parties kept their hands to themselves. Calleigh kept herself busy by losing herself in her thoughts and rolling the window down a bit to feel the cooling breeze coming off the beach. Pullen Park was half a mile from the ocean and the coolness of the breeze helped cool her ardor and regain her senses. Eric did have the damnedest effect on her. She was really looking forward to the picnic, which was the only reason they weren't secluded in her house right now making love. She shivered at the thought and barely repressed a quiet moan.

Eric, for his part, had to shift his body every so often. The arousal that had gripped him when he'd first laid eyes on his girlfriend that night had not released its claws and he had to fight to keep from reaching for her across the console. If he did, they'd be in the backseat within moments, pulled over and pulling each other's clothes off in a frantic bid for access to more skin. Mmmm, Calleigh-skin… Damn it, _no_, he thought, trying to refocus his thoughts. No matter how much he just wanted to drive them back to her place and make love, it wasn't on the agenda for tonight. He actually had a purpose for this dinner and he was determined to see things through. Even if it killed him. Or rather, his libido.

Thankfully, blessedly, they arrived just as the sun was starting to make its descent over the horizon, casting a glow across the surface of the earth, beautiful blues, purples, pinks, oranges, and golds playing on the landscape. The couple pulled the blanket and basket from the car and walked a few minutes into the park to a clearing that had a great view of the horizon; the sound of the waves crashing on the shore could be heard faintly. Eric laid out the blanket against an oak tree and then removed the contents of the basket: sandwiches, two long-stemmed wine glasses, grapes and a small container of fruit salad. Calleigh loved strawberries, pineapple, and oranges. For a sweet ending, Eric had cajoled his mother into making _tres leches_ for two.

Calleigh spread out the skirt of her dress around her body modestly and then helped Eric with their light dinner. Once everything was spread out, Eric leaned his body against the oak and drew Calleigh into his arms. Settled nicely against his chest, she handed him a sandwich and proceeded to take a bite out of hers. A soft sigh escaped Eric after a few moments, his sandwich in one hand, the other wrapped around Calleigh's waist.

"What?" she asked softly, after swallowing more of her dinner.

She felt him move against her and then, "Nothing. Just…content. Happy to be here, with you, like this." His rumble was a quiet exhalation against the thin skin of her forehead, his warm breath tickling her lightly.

Calleigh smiled and closed her eyes. "Me, too," she agreed.

"It seems like yesterday that we were fighting, and at the same time, it seems like a lifetime ago. I'm just glad we didn't…let the past get in the way of our future," Eric said quietly, struggling to put his emotions, his feelings into words.

"So am I. We almost let our anger and pain blind us to the incredible possibilities. A part of me wants to forget how we were before, when we were fighting. It was hard and hurtful, but a greater part of me doesn't want to forget, because we've learned from our mistakes. I don't want history to repeat itself with us, Eric. I don't ever want to lose what we have. We've been through so much to get to this point." Calleigh's voice caught and Eric had to swallow hard to suppress the tears lodged in his throat.

"Christ, Calleigh, neither do I. I love you. I love you, baby," he murmured and twisted his body to meet her lips in a slow kiss. Before things could progress into that territory, Eric pulled back, much to Calleigh's dismay, only to lift and turn her so she was somewhat facing him, her body cupped against his, one arm supporting her back. "It's been six months since we became lovers again. It's been a year since we originally broke up. So it's safe to say this is an anniversary of sorts." He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a long slender velvet box.

Calleigh's heart started to hammer in her chest. _It's too big to be that. Rings come in small, square boxes, not long, rectangular ones, _she thought to herself. But that reassurance didn't prevent her hands from shaking when she took it from him and opened it. The box contained a diamond tennis bracelet with eight emeralds interspersed equally between the diamonds. The diamonds caught and held the moon's soft light, and glinted in the near darkness, casting prisms of soft light across her and Eric's clothes. She gasped at the beauty of the bracelet and almost missed the small piece of paper tucked in the corner of the top half of the box. Calleigh pulled that out after setting the box in her lap.

_For the woman of my dreams. Eight years of friendship. And much more._

"Oh, Eric, it's beautiful. I love it," she whispered after a long moment. He let out a soft exhalation of relief, a bit worried this wasn't the right time for it. "When did-Why-?" Calleigh's voice broke after a few words and she was unable to complete her questions.

"I found it in my bedroom, the night I confronted you," he said quietly. "I think I'd had it a long time, obviously since before the shooting, but I think I was going to give it to you before we broke up. Probably as an anniversary gift."

Tears pricked her eyes. How could she have been so stupid? If not for her, they would have been together now for over a year. Her insecurities-

"No, Calleigh. I can see where those wheels are turning and I don't want you going there anymore. That time is over. In the past. No more guilt trips, for either of us," Eric said, tipping her head up to catch and hold her gaze, emphasizing his words.

A small smile played across her lips. "Okay, then. Will you help me put it on?"

In response, Eric took the box from her and as she held out her hand, he encircled it with the bracelet, hooking the clasp before setting it down, caressing the sensitive skin on the inside of her wrist. Calleigh shivered in response to the gentle stroke. "You know why the emeralds?" She shook her head. "Because they remind me of your eyes. Beautiful green eyes. I lose myself in them all the time."

What could a girl say to that? Nothing. But she could _show _what it meant. With that in mind, Calleigh reached up and kissed him slowly, savoring his taste, but it wasn't enough. It soon became an urgent kiss, which quickly turned ardent. She pulled his head down sharply to meet her mouth, pressing the softness of her lips against the firmness of his, licking at his mouth, and coaxing entrance into recesses that wanted nothing more than her sweet taste. What started out slow turned fast quickly and the couple found themselves on the ground, rolling around on the blanket, each trying to gain the upper hand.

_They rolled in the leaf-covered damp grass, tussling and each trying to gain the upper hand. Finally, laughing, she gained the top position and straddled him, leaning down, breath whispering against his, her face just inches from his. A smile curved her lips and she said quietly, reverently, "I love you." Eric swiftly closed the distance and reached up with his mouth to capture hers in a passion-filled kiss, communicating all that he couldn't say at that moment for lack of speech. _

Eric pulled back, for a moment disoriented, before his vision cleared and his eyes focused on the woman above him, face inches from his, forehead creased in concern. "Eric, what's wrong?" she questioned, alarm in her tone.

A slow smile spread across his face. "Nothing. Nothing's wrong. I just had another flashback, another memory. I think we were in a park, about to make love. I think it was the first time you said you loved me," he murmured.

The concern cleared up and a mix of happiness and sadness glimmered in her eyes. "I remember that afternoon and evening."

"Tell me more. I may not get all of my memory back. I may not recall everything, every moment about us, no matter how much I want to, but I do want to hear about it. Who knows? Maybe it'll jog my mind," Eric joked, trying to lighten the mood.

She levered herself up slightly to respond to his request. "I said I loved you and we made love for the first time. It was an afternoon much like this one, actually, closer to dusk, like now…" Calleigh painted a picture with her words and in moments Eric was able to saturate the canvas that was his mind with images of that afternoon and passion-filled evening. He learned that the near misses with the locals in the last few months wasn't the first time he and Calleigh had dared to cross the line. As she spoke, Calleigh's body gradually lowered back down to cover Eric's, her head resting in the crook of his neck. A sweet lassitude invaded her limbs as she whispered to him of their lovemaking that evening, when they got back to her place. What they'd started in the park barely made it to her house, they were so hungry for each other.

By the time she concluded her story, both of them were breathing harder, and Calleigh had been so lost in the memory, she only now realized Eric's hand had crept up under her dress, and he was slowly, teasingly stroking the sensitive inside of her thigh from behind, just a few inches from where she needed him. His breath stirred the delicate hairs against her forehead, tongue touching her skin briefly in a soft, slick, open-mouthed kiss. His fingers, roughened with calluses, caressed and pressed lightly just those precious few inches from the heat of her core, which was burning, ready for him.

"Come on, Eric. Let's go home. Now. I-" She couldn't finish the words due to the heat rushing through her body, but Eric didn't need the words. Her body was telling him everything he needed to know, and he was in perfect agreement. As quickly as they could, the couple gathered their belongings, packing the basket hurriedly, the fruit salad and _tres leches _unmolested, and walked across the field, which bordered a large forested area.

Eric's strides through the clearing were swift and almost jerky, basket and blanket swinging precariously from his left hand, his grasp on her hand tight and every few seconds, he gripped hers in a pulsing, rhythmic manner, palm sweaty and sliding across hers, reminding Calleigh of sex, communicating his desperation to get them to the car and home _now. _She could feel the slickness of her desire on her thighs as she walked with Eric. Christ, why had they chosen such a far clearing? Couldn't they have found something closer? Or better yet, they could have driven the car into the park, parked it in the clearing. (Never mind it was illegal to do so.) Yeah, that would have worked. And then they could have just gone back to the car, and Eric would have been able to just start it and get them out of there. It was a quick drive from the park to his place.

Calleigh's thoughts were interrupted when she tripped over a rock on the uneven ground. Eric caught her, his arms instinctively grasping her hips to steady her gait, her body flush against his. Every one of her curves plastered themselves to every hollow in his. Her knees had weakened a bit and so now Calleigh rose slightly to her full height. She shouldn't have done that.

Her body slid against his, every nerve coming to screaming life, sensitized beyond belief at the torturous heat and feel of his presence. Up until then, she had been holding it together, just a few more minutes, a few more minutes, but she snapped. Calleigh pulled Eric into a small copse of trees in the forest not too far from the clearing so they wouldn't get lost, but deep enough that they would have some privacy. She knew she wasn't thinking rationally, she _knew _it, but at that moment, she didn't care. All she knew was that she wanted Eric. She wanted him now. Any way she could get him right then and it didn't matter that they were in the middle of a state park. It didn't matter that there weren't candles and soft sheets and music. Calleigh was feeling elemental, and she wanted Eric on an absolutely basic level. She had to have him inside of her right then or…

She didn't know what would happen, but she knew she couldn't wait until they got home.

Eric, for his part, hadn't said anything. His mind was also on one track and as long as they didn't get interrupted, he didn't care where they made love. In fact, the idea of making love in such an open place, forbidden as it was, tantalized his senses and revved his engine even higher. Desire for his lover had never been higher. His ego had taken one hell of a backseat to his id and his basic desires for Calleigh now ruled him. He wanted anything and everything. He wanted to show her just how much he loved her, how much he was dedicated to her, to them. And, he admitted, he just wanted to _fuck _her. As basic as it was, he wanted Calleigh every way he could have her, every position. He wanted to bring her screaming, his name on her lips. His cock jerked hard at that tantalizing thought.

He was pulled back from his thoughts as they stopped and Eric laid out the blanket, the basket dropped nearby. As hot as he was for her, Calleigh was not going to be lying on the cold ground without any kind of cushion. She came at him the moment he rose from the blanket, eyes intent and hungry on his mouth, and plastered her body against his. Eric anchored himself at her hips and gave in to the drugging kisses of her mouth, licking inside and searching out her taste. Gradually, they descended to the blanket, and Eric wasn't sure exactly how he wound up on the bottom, Calleigh straddling his hips. But he wasn't going to complain.

Calleigh's hips were making small, subconscious movements over Eric's cock, stroking her soft, silky, panty-covered core against that delicious hardness. Her dress had shifted so the only things in her way besides her panties were two layers from his clothes. But she was preoccupied. Calleigh's mouth ate at his, licking, nipping at the soft, succulent bottom lip. That was _her _lip, she thought, pulling back slightly to look at the appendage before closing her eyes again and mashing her mouth against his.

Idle hands his were not and so Eric stroked over her body through the dress, sensitizing nerves and making Calleigh shiver in reaction. His fingers curved and his blunt nails raked down her back softly. She cried out a small sound and arched her back.

_Oh, God, more, _she thought. I need more. I need him. Calleigh started pulling at his jacket, and Eric removed it, but by the time he'd started that, she had already moved onto his shirt and instead of attempting to unbutton the damn thing, she grasped each side and pulled, rending the fabric and sending buttons flying.

Eric's passion had been high before, but it went into overdrive at the pure hunger in her actions, the glitter in her eyes that spoke silently of her desire. He tried to pull the dress off, but Calleigh would have none of that and batted his hands away. "No, let me," she whispered hoarsely. Eric complied and instead helped her remove his shirt and then reclined back onto the blanket, his head and body pillowed by the soft fleece. Calleigh followed him and kissed him deeply one last time before moving on to harder surfaces. Her lips trailed down from his very hard to leave lips, down his neck to nip, and then lick and started to move toward his chest, but came back up to bite and suckle into the cords that joined his neck and shoulder.

Eric cried out and arched his neck, reflexively grasping for an anchor. And he found it in the form of Calleigh's silky hair and the sweet curve of her ass under the dress.

Calleigh didn't know why she was being so harsh with Eric. Normally, she was an attentive if a bit passive lover, but with Eric… Something in him brought out a side of her she'd never known she'd had. Feral was the word. Possessive. Yes, that was it. She was possessive. And she wanted to mark him, the way that he had marked her, albeit his mark was on the inside. She wanted everyone they saw, everyone they met, and everyone they knew, to know that he was taken. That he was _hers. _

After a few more minutes of suckling the skin, Calleigh moved down, eyes upturned for a moment to ensure the spot was reddened. A faint impression of her teeth was visible, the skin around mottled and the capillaries broken, and a primitive part of Calleigh was satisfied. Her musings were refocused by the smooth and tan skin of his upper chest, which received various licks, sucks, and nibbles across that surface. His nipples, those hard and delicious points, were treated to soft suckles followed by hard nips, sensitizing flesh that normally on guys wasn't sensitive. Eric groaned and twisted a bit, whether to try to get away from her she didn't know, but his movements placed him even further in her grasp. Calleigh trailed slow kisses down his chest and to his rock hard abdomen, hard from training, but also because of the sexual tension racking his body.

Sweat formed on his brow at the slick feel of her tongue moving and tracing over the lines defining his muscles in his lower abdomen, just a few inches above the part of him that was aching for her beneath the restricting jeans. Calleigh followed the trail down to the top of his jeans, licking teasingly along the rim. Eric had to grab the blanket to keep from pulling her long hair. Instead, he tried to calm the tremors running through his body while he waited for another action from his lover. Finally, her hands came into play and slowly unbuttoned his jeans and eased the zipper carefully over the hard bulge throbbing for her breath, her mouth, her hands – anything. Calleigh pushed the sides of the jeans down and Eric lifted slightly to help her remove his jeans. She breathed hotly over him and his erection tented the white cotton of his boxer briefs even more, communicating to her just how much he wanted and needed her attentions.

Her tongue darted out, quickly there and back again, to lick at his hardness through the thin layer of cotton and Eric's hips rose instinctively, seeking that wet heat. Gasps escaped his lips, and his hands clenched and unclenched, trying to find an anchor where there was none. None but the intense feel of her mouth when she deemed it necessary. She was torturing him and Calleigh didn't seem to care. Something was going through her tonight…something _feral_ and he liked it. No, he loved it.

Eric shivered as Calleigh's nails scraped his hips as she drew the cotton down, and he assisted by lifting ever so slightly. She flung them away in the general direction of his other garments and focused her attention at the staff rising hard and proud from the neat tuft of hair at the base. A sly look into his eyes was all the warning Eric received before Calleigh's warm mouth engulfed his head, suckling gently, before swiftly moving off, but not before dotting a small, smacking kiss against the tip. He couldn't suppress the groan that emerged from his throat at the erotic move, that tantalizing sight.

Calleigh trembled inside at the sight before her: Eric helpless, at her mercy, awaiting her pleasure, his sole focus on her mouth and the delights she could bring him to. A hot gush of cream slickened her core and moistened the sides of her thighs. God, having Eric like this, hers to just…devour…was the hottest thing she'd ever experienced. She wanted to drive him out of his mind with pleasure, completely insane with the need, just like he'd done to her so many times during their months together. Payback was a bitch, and Calleigh was its queen.

With that in mind, a quick glance up revealed Eric's focused gaze on her mouth, and not her eyes, where her intentions for the night could be found, and Calleigh once again lowered her head to tease the mushroom-shaped tip of his cock with her tongue, lightly flicking the sensitive skin, softly probing the slit. An expletive escaped Eric's lips at that particular move and his entire body trembled in reaction. _Fuck_ could be heard softly, very softly, chanted from nearly motionless lips and Calleigh's lips curved into a smile. Better, but he could still think if he could speak understandably. And she wanted him incomprehensible with need.

She took him back into her mouth, this time working her jaw muscles to take more than just the head, to take all of him, as much as she could, into her mouth, before slowly releasing his shaft up to the sensitive head and doing it all over again. Over. And. Over. Again. Mindless. She wanted him mindless. Calleigh lost herself in their passion and Eric too, and so she barely heard it.

_Snap._ A twig or branch broke in half under a pair of heavy work boots.

Calleigh almost clamped her mouth on Eric in surprise at the sound and he froze below her, attempting to calm his breathing and catch his breath without gasping for air.

"Hey, Dave, did you hear something? Maybe those teens are back." Boots crunched on the leaf and branch-strewn floor alarmingly close to where Calleigh and Eric lay. Maybe fifty feet away.

"Probably just another hurt deer, Mike," Dave said. "It's been a while since those kids were out here making out. I think we scared the shit out of them before." He answered a call on the radio from dispatch about a false alarm and turned back to his partner, flashing his light toward him.

Mike laughed and then continued, "Yeah, but still. Let's do a quick walk through before we head back to Central. Don't want to be accused of not doing our jobs."

Mike snickered. "Fine, fine, but you're buying the coffee and bagels this time."

Calleigh could hear the two police officers moving around, but resumed the attention to Eric's still hard erection. God, it was dangerous, really dangerous to be doing this out here in the open with two fellow boys in blue only feet away, but she rationalized it by thinking they wouldn't be found. They could be quiet. Well, she could be quiet. Now it was in Eric's court. Could he contain himself?

Eric's eyes just about bugged out and his heart hammered in his chest at the sounds of the two officers nearby, but he nearly had a heart attack when Calleigh's hot, wet mouth took him inside again. He waved frantically at her, head lifted to plead mercy. hands trembling in reaction to her and to the prospect of getting caught. But she continued. With a saucy twinkle in her eye, Calleigh worked his cock over, licking up and down and all around. Eventually, she reached his balls and worked those over too, lightly scraping them with her blunt teeth, sucking each one inside and treating it to a warm bath, before moving on slowly toward his perineum, that smooth place between his balls and his anus and licked that too, before dipping down to tickle lightly at that most private part of him.

A daring and insidious thought entered her mind and for a moment, she hesitated, wondering if it was going too far, but dismissed it almost immediately. Eric liked to experiment and what was good for the goose….

Calleigh slowly moved Eric's left leg up and out and coaxed his hips to cant up. She reached down, dipping two fingers into the cream which had gathered at her apex in response to her thoughts, and actions, and Eric's reactions, and couldn't help but play there for a while, stroking herself in time to the delicate suction from her lips against his cockhead. Finally, after a long minute, she reached up with her well-lubricated fingers and pushed one cheek to the side. Calleigh glanced up at Eric questioningly, and he reassured her with one look that whatever she was about to do was okay with him.

Eric tensed as he felt a slick finger brush against his anus, circling, circling. But he couldn't help his body's reaction. Shamefully, his cock grew in size, blood flowing, rushing faster to that part of him. He had to breath deeply, but quietly, trying desperately not to make a sound that would alert the officers to their location. Thankfully, the sound of the cicadas and other forest creatures drowned out their heavy breathing.

The soft touch moved back to safer, more familiar territory, stroking gently against his perineum, and had Eric's hips levitating off the ground and bucking into her hand and biting his lip to prevent the scream that wanted to bubble up.

Instinctively, Calleigh knew she had found what she was looking for, stroking against the sensitive bit of him that was a gateway to a man's secret pleasure, softly caressing just right to have him coming in mere moments. She didn't care that they were in the open, that anyone could see them, that there were two police officers only feet away on beat patrol looking out for just this kind of behavior. No. None of that mattered. The only thing that mattered was the man beneath her, trembling, sweating profusely in the middle of a climax made all the more intense by the fact that he couldn't cry out, that he had to keep all that release inside and let it wash over him, internalize it. She caught the ropey strands of his release between her lips and licked him tenderly as his tremors began to calm, bringing him down slowly. He was gasping silently, body still trembling, when they tuned in to hear the two officers moving further out of the woods, returning back to the main streets of their patrol.

Calleigh pressed one last reverent kiss to the tip of him, feeling his body shudder at that small caress, before looking up, her face pressed against the hollow of his hip. Her fingers, sticky with hers and his release, twined with his, and Eric's grip tightened, as if seeking an anchor. Finally, after long moments, his breathing evened out enough for him to hoarsely whisper, "c'mere." Soft eyes beckoned her embrace.

That was it. Just that. And with one softly spoken word, coupled with the strength of his arms as Eric shakily helped her move up and into the curve of his body, Calleigh's heart melted even more. Her heart, already his, was steel in its resolve to never leave him. How they'd gone from intense passion to soft words and tender emotions, she couldn't explain. She just knew that with Eric, all of those things were present all the time. It wasn't possible to separate her passion from her emotions. They were intimately entwined when it came to him.

Calleigh could still hear the hammer of his heart as he calmed, her ear pressed to that strong, yet fragile cage encasing it. Soft hands ran up and down absently along his body, stroking gently, and unknowingly, Calleigh began to incite Eric's passion. Never far from the surface, it rose swiftly. But his body needed to recover. A person didn't have a sexual experience like he'd received just now without a little recovery time. He had to bite back a moan as his weakened body stirred. "Give me a minute."

Soft laughter interrupted cicada song and Calleigh lifted her head from his comfortable place on his chest. "Did little ole' me wear you out?"

A small smile played across his face, one side upturned higher than the other. "Yes," he said frankly. "But you can wear me out like that anytime, baby," he said, extending his neck to top a kiss on those oh, so kissable lips. What started out soft and teasing quickly expanded and deepened and Eric found his refraction time greatly reduced. Calleigh was the cause of course. Not that he was complaining. Who could complain about that?

His thoughts were fractured by the silken glide of her body against his and his mind focused on one thing: reducing his lover to a quivering mass of flesh the way she'd done to him.

He reversed their positions and removed her dress and lingerie. Eric settled back a bit to take in the lovely, breath-stealing sight before him: Calleigh naked against the blanket, naked but for the diamond and emerald tennis bracelet adorning her wrist, an unspoken outward sign of his love. The diamonds caught and held the soft moonlight, tracking slivers of light across his chest. So beautiful. He leaned down and, after pressing a possessive kiss to her lips, trailed a sweet line of kisses down her neck and ears, pausing to scrape gently that cartilage-covered skin so rich in nerves; he was rewarded by shivers that wracked her body. He leaned down and with an upturned gaze, eyes locked on Calleigh's, bared his teeth and slowly, oh so slowly, lowered and captured a berry-red nipple gently. Out of the corner of his eye, Eric could see the basket, with its wine bottle sticking out and a most wicked idea had his breath catching as tantalizing images played across the canvas of his mind. Eric rose swiftly, ignoring her protest and returned with the opened bottle of wine, the basket now within easy reach.

Eric pulled Calleigh up slightly, into a semi-reclining position, and allowed her to reach back with her arms and brace herself against the soft fleece of the blanket. She didn't know what he had planned, but she wasn't worried. Calleigh knew Eric to be an inventive lover, and trusted him to see to her pleasure. He'd never brought her pain before and he wouldn't start now.

Her curiosity was assuaged when, with one flick of his wrist, the opened bottle of red wine spilled a small stream of its contents down her body, starting at her neck and working its way down, over her breasts. It never reached its final destination as Eric opened his mouth and suckled the liquid from her breasts, the cold liquid hardening her nipples even more so, the combination of cold liquid and hot tongue eliciting a ringing cry from her lips. A trail of wine stained her breast, and took the path of least resistance, down her tip and into the waiting well of his mouth.

"Mmmm, delicious," Eric said in a smoky voice, almost too low to hear. A second tilt of the bottle had her entire body arching in acquiescence, straining toward that hot cavern of a mouth, the talented tongue that licked, lips that sipped, and teeth that scraped so gently, blunt teeth leaving faint marks of his possession on her skin.

Calleigh was shaking. With heat. With desire. With every arousing emotion and feeling and sensation a woman could. Taking Eric over had been incredible, intensely, insanely delicious and satisfying, but she loved it when Eric took her over like this, completely demolished her senses, and her defenses, to insensate with need. Pure. Unadulterated. Need.

Fire rushed through her veins and pooled in her belly, evidenced by the wetness coating her thighs and slickening the soft cleft between. Tremors racked through her body. Hands shook as they tried to lock against the fleece in her fists. Gasps escaped her mouth, heart hammering in her chest, and she thought briefly that she wasn't going to be able to survive this, _and he'd just suckled her breasts. _

A dark laugh escaped his lips and Calleigh's head spun at the sexually charged sound. "I've only begun, love."

Another tilt and her body jerked at the cold against her heated flesh, this time running down centerline to pool a bit in the hollow of her belly. A dark head bent and sipped delicately at first, licking gently, before taking huge bites of her skin, blunt teeth teasing at the sensitive flesh before gently releasing, sucking all of the liquid, now warmed from her burning skin.

_Ah, Jesus Christ, _was her last thought before a final tilt of the bottle directly against her cleft rendered her boneless. Calleigh collapsed against the blanket just as a snarl rent the air and Eric's dark head descended on that part of her wet all on its own for want of him.

Eric's eyes burned as they focused on the image of the cool liquid coating her folds, seeking out each crevice and slipping inside, warmed by the heat of her body. At eye level with that part of her, he could see everything and he was salivating at the thought of drinking the potent combination of cool wine and hot Calleigh. A snarl of need escaped his lips before he descended on that tender flesh, pressing an open-mouthed kiss against slick folds, delving between, licking as much of the wine as he could, and in the process, drinking her down as well. Eric was drunk, drunk not on wine, but on _her. _

It was long, long moments before Eric came up for air, satisfied he'd sipped all the wine he'd spilled and then some, but he hadn't let Calleigh come. Each time she neared that sweet peak, he'd drawn back, nibbling her outer lips, licking and flicking at her thighs and hips as she came down from that cliff, only to bring her back up again. Over and over. When he looked up, Calleigh's face was one of sheer perfection, expression contorted into pained pleasure, head moving back and forth, so lost in her desire she'd not yet comprehended he'd left her. He had one more task, something he'd been thinking about for some time, an image in his head, a conversation from _before, _he thought, that he could not quite get out of his head. A fantasy about to come true.

Eric quickly rummaged through the basket and found what he'd been looking for: the fruit salad. He picked one sweet berry from among its neighbors and returned to his lover. Calleigh's eyes opened slowly at the movement, confusion in her eyes. "Why'd you stop? Don't stop," she whispered, her voice hoarse from her cries.

"Never, baby," Eric said, heat burning in his eyes. "Just needed to get something. I want to play just a little longer and then you can come." He ran the split berry across her lips, leaving their surface shiny with juice.

Calleigh's inner muscles convulsed strongly, but around nothing. The emptiness at her core cried out, wept, demanded, screamed for his thick, long cock to sooth it, to quell the aching need at her core. To fill, fill, fill her up to the brim, to overflowing. Stretch her body to accommodate his and then maybe she could be satisfied, satiated.

Eric moved down her body, his eyes locked with her burning gaze before breaking that covenant to watch his fingers as he brushed the slick meat of the strawberry against her folds, slipping and sliding, enjoying the hot visual of this intense act. He opened her up to his gaze and to the berry, turning it over to slide the bumpy side against the swollen bud of her clit, round and round, teasing, coaxing her hips up and watching as she instinctively found and joined his rhythm. He let her have her pleasure for a few minutes, but when her cries grew more fervent, Eric left that hard button and moved down, sliding it into the hot cavern that was her core and slipping his fingers in alongside. Calleigh's body contracted against the berry and him and Eric had to bite his lip to smother the groan that wanted to echo across the forest. He eased his fingers back, gently, but couldn't help the stroke against her walls, desperate to feel her.

Calleigh cried out at the succulent touch and her body rose in demand, in plea, for his fingers, his mouth, _anything. Ah, Jesus, why did I tease him like that earlier? Was this payback?_ Maybe, but sometimes Eric was just this focused on her. On what he could do to her and her reactions to the intense pleasure he brought her.

Eric's dark eyes grew even smokier at the immensely arousing sight of the berry at her core. _Always did love strawberries_, was his last thought before all reason left him and he converged on her flesh, sealing his lips against the burning skin crying out for him. The first bite of berry exploded taste into his mouth, both the sweetly tart fruit and the smoky flavor of Calleigh. Eric ate at the berry as best he could, sucking bits of the sweet fruit into his mouth, and also using his teeth to bite into the juicy bits remaining outside the entrance to her body.

Calleigh's cries rose, her thighs tightening against his head and her fists clutched desperately at the fleece beneath her. Like before, when their positions were switched, where he'd found no stability, neither did she.

When Eric had eaten all that he could from outside, his insidious tongue delved in, stroking against sensitive walls that at once welcomed him into their depths, before circling around the bit of fruit and sucking the berry out a few millimeters to meet his mouth and teeth. He sucked the fruit out, but one stubborn bite remained inside and he had to slip his fingers back inside and hook that bit down and out into his waiting mouth. His fingers returned at the demand voiced by the fingers in his hair and hooked across that sensitive, spongy tissue that was a woman' G-spot, that was Calleigh's. Stroked gently, oh, so gently across that bit of flesh and muscles tightened against him, pulling him in strongly, and not for the first time, Eric wished he could be here forever, inside her, learning and relearning all of her secrets, eating her up and drinking her down for the rest of his life.

A faint jerk went through his body at the intensely possessive thought.

_Now._ He couldn't wait. He couldn't wait anymore to be inside her. He needed that the way he needed to breathe. Eric deliberately stroked harder over that space inside and moved his mouth up to capture the exposed hard pearl of her clit between his lips and mercilessly sucked. In a matter of moments, Eric had Calleigh screaming in release, muscles clamping and releasing against his fingers, inciting him further.

He couldn't wait. He couldn't wait until she came down from her high. He needed her now. And so he swiftly moved up, removing his fingers and lips from her needy body, silencing a protest with his kiss before shafting his cock deep into Calleigh's core. He swallowed her second scream and fought to stay atop as her body bucked into his convulsively, letting her ride the pleasure into a second orgasm while taking his own. Mere minutes into the frantic coupling, Eric came hard, his release forced by the unyielding grip of Calleigh's body.

Long minutes passed before either of them could get enough air to breathe properly, much less speak. When his heart had somewhat slowed, Eric lifted his head to gaze into Calleigh's eyes, now somewhat clear, instead of cloudy with passion. He raised a shaky hand to smooth the sweaty tendrils of hair from her face and lowered his head to press his lips to hers. In stark contrast to their coupling, the kiss that followed was sweet and soft, tender and slow. Savoring.

The couple lay on the soft bed of fleece, recovering from their lovemaking, content in the silence between them. Sometimes, more was said in silence than in words. Time seemed to stand still in this secluded copse, sheltering the couple from the outside world and in minutes, both closed their eyes and drifted to sleep in each other's arms.

When Eric woke, he was disoriented at first, but sense quickly came to him at the soft feel of his lover beneath him. He reached for his phone near the forgotten basket and checked the time. 3:54am. They'd been out for hours. And they needed to get out of here and get home. Before those cops came back. A grin tugged at his lips at the thought. "Cal…Hey, baby, time to wake up," he said softly, running a tender finger down her face, coaxing her to wake up and join him. She protested quietly, still semi-asleep and Eric had to laugh a bit at her insistence. She did love her sleep. When it suited her.

"Come on, baby, wakey, wakey…" Eric punctuated the request with a kiss, which worked better than his words. She responded to him immediately, still half-asleep until her brain caught up to the motions of her body.

"Hmmm, why're you waking me?" she grumbled. Eric couldn't suppress the sharp laugh.

"Well, if you'd like to stay here and let the mosquitoes devour more of that luscious skin, then be my guest. But I'd like to get home. Especially considering the cops might still be around," he said, amusement coloring his tone.

At that, Calleigh's eyes popped open and took in her surroundings. "Eric, what time is it?" She grabbed his phone and about shrieked at the lateness. "We have to be at work in just a few hours! Let's go!"

Eric laughed and after heaving himself up, helped her onto her feet before gathering and sorting their clothes before getting dressed. Both quickly repacked the basket, and Eric caught the fiery blush that stole over her cheeks as Calleigh gathered what few strawberries that hadn't spilled onto the night floor back into the basket.

When they were finished packing, Eric walked hand in hand with Calleigh back to the car, which was several minutes away by foot. His other hand contained the basket and the empty bottle of wine. Calleigh's embarrassed pleasure at the sight of the bottle and furtive glances to and fro, as if searching for something, or in their case, some_one_, prompted Eric to tease, "Looking for someone?" Her blush grew even more intense and he smiled. "Why, Calleigh, I never took you for an exhibitionist," he teased further, obliquely referring to the incident with the police earlier.

Calleigh's silence was punctuated by Eric's soft laughter.

*****

Eric's bedroom

5:53am

Eric lay awake, sheet draped across his naked hips, Calleigh next to him, turned to the side. Her hair was splayed across her pillow and a bit of his, but he didn't mind. It was 5:53am and he couldn't sleep. How that was possible with the night they'd had he didn't know. The passion they'd shared had eclipsed every other moment. Each time was better and better, hotter, more intense. He prayed their passion never dimmed. And it wouldn't, not if he had anything to do with it. No, their love would keep that part of their relationship alive, brilliantly, vibrantly alive. Forever. Calleigh shifted next to him, and the diamonds from the tennis bracelet on her wrist sparkled and caught his eye, reminding him of another diamond.

Eric carefully leaned over his nightstand, careful not to wake Calleigh, and opened the bottom drawer. He rummaged around for a moment before his hand closed over the soft velvet and drew it out into the open. Moonlight streamed in and lit the room softly, so he could see what he held: a small square box. With a flick of his fingers, the box was opened and he stared at the discreet diamond set in platinum, the perfect engagement ring for a woman who did not care for chunky jewelry because of her job.

He had given her the tennis bracelet as an unspoken proof of his intentions, even if she did not consciously recognize the jewelry for what it was. One did not buy bracelets that cost a person several paychecks without intentions. Future intentions. Even though it wasn't 'the ring' it was something. Moonlight caught sight of the diamond and reflected through, the light catching and cascading across Calleigh's face.

She may not be ready for that kind of commitment now, as evidenced by the flash of panic in her eyes earlier when he gave her the bracelet, however minimal, but one day soon, perhaps he could pop the question. After all, he did find the right girl.


End file.
